


The real you

by AllTheSnakes



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Crobby - Freeform, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-05
Updated: 2019-06-15
Packaged: 2020-01-05 02:08:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 15
Words: 57,979
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18356429
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AllTheSnakes/pseuds/AllTheSnakes
Summary: When different versions of Crowley and Bobby meet, what is to be expected?





	1. Look who is back!

**Author's Note:**

> This is set somewhere soon after episode 300.  
> I didn't include Jack because, even if he is lovely, he doesn't fit in what I imagined for this story. He may be mentioned, for the sake of clarity.

Sam nodded at his brother, and Dean raised a hand to knock on Jody’s door.

However, he didn’t manage to complete the gesture.

The Sheriff had been waiting for them so anxiously that when they arrived at her front steps she was ready to exit the house and talk to them.

‘I did all the tests’, she stated, closing the door behind her soundly and not even caring for the usual friendly greetings, ‘He’s not a shapeshifter or a ghost’.

‘And not a demon?’, Dean asked and, at her offended face, raised his hands in apology, ‘Just to make sure’.

‘First thing I tested him for, and the one I’ve been testing until now’, Jody threw a quick look at the door behind her, ‘Sure you’ll be ok alone with him?’

‘Don’t worry’, Dean raised a brow, ‘If it’s him, we have history. If not, we’ll find out what to do’.

‘Did you warn the girls to stay away?’, Sam wanted to know. At Jody’s confirmation, he smiled reassuringly, ‘Then we’ve got this’.

The Sheriff threw her spare keys at Dean, gave handcuff keys to Sam and hugged both brothers tightly before leaving for work.

The Winchesters exchanged amused glances – they loved that woman! –, braced themselves for what was to come and entered the house.

 

xxx

 

Jody had called them two days ago to tell that a man had sneaked on her when she left the Police Station. She had just opened her car door when someone who was identical to the deceased King of Hell appeared from nowhere with a sad puppy look and holding a handwritten poster in front of his chest with the phrase "I’m not Crowley".

Sam and Dean had been involved in a hunt three states away, but as soon as they wrapped that over, they drove to Sioux Falls to see what that meant.

They kept in touch with Jody as much as possible during the process, reminding her of the tests she could do to make sure she was not dealing with a demon or any supernatural creature, and trying to calm her down on what regarded some disturbing things she had been observing in her guest’s behavior.

Now it was their time to see what was happening in loco.

 

xxx

 

Yes, the meatsuit was the one they knew. However, the boys had a hard time keeping in mind they could be in the same room with the former King of Hell.

What they saw was a very humble man sitting quietly on a sofa, wearing a black shirt and jeans, hands cuffed, and sporting a purple spot on his jaw, where he had been hit by the Sheriff.

(The punch was not really necessary, once the man had made seemingly sincere efforts to not be seen as a menace, but he still owed her for the Roderick affair.

Besides, Jody was totally a better-safe-than-sorry person.)

When the man saw the Winchesters, his eyes widened.

Then, he straightened his back and sat at the edge of the sofa, mouth hanging open, eyes dancing from one brother to the other in obvious excitement.

They had never seen such open joy in that face.

They had seen Crowley showing off winning grins, but this whole happy attitude was brand new. 

Dean halted and turned his body slightly, as if ready to assume a fighting stance.

Sam raised his hands in a silent pleading for the man, who seemed ready to get up, to calm down and stay where he was.

Realizing he still had to prove himself to them, Not-Crowley relaxed his body in the seat and smiled gently, ‘Hello, boys’.

The brothers couldn’t help but show their surprise.

It was a deeply incoherent image: that face they related to self-satisfied smirks and evil intention showing sincere fondness and understanding – that was disarming. 

So, Sam and Dean stayed wary and at some cautious steps from the sofa.

‘You don’t need to worry. I’m completely harmless’, the man spoke, but then frowned for a moment, ‘Unless you want me to manage forks. In that case, accidents may happen’, he raised his cuffed hands in annoyance, ‘Do you have any idea how difficult it was to eat as a civilized person while wearing this? The Sheriff offered me food without taking these off. Luckily her nice girls offered to help, or I would be a dirty mess, by now – and not the fun kind’.

‘Do you have a point?’, Sam asked.

The man blinked at the taller brother, ‘Yes’, he raised his hands again, ‘Is this really necessary?’

Again, the incoherence: he was totally the Crowley they knew, worried about his dignity while throwing innuendo, and still the contrary of the Crowley they had known, with the freely thrown around praises and the simple explanations.

‘Yes, it is necessary’, Dean approached, more confident, ‘We’re not trusting you just because you wrote a cute poster’.

At the appalled face, Sam added, ‘You can’t expect us to set only for what you say’.

‘You must believe me’, the man pleaded, ‘I’m just a very old and wet human, right now’.

‘Wet?’, Dean asked, frowning his nose.

‘How old?’, Sam asked at the same time.

The brothers exchanged confused glances at the other’s priorities.

‘The Sheriff threw holy water on my face as soon as we entered this house, and she has been throwing it again whenever I get distracted, to make sure I haven’t been suddenly possessed’.

The man gave the explanation to Dean, and his tone got the familiar annoyed one when he realized the hunter was snickering at the whole situation.

Then, he turned to Sam to answer him, ‘We’re talking more than three hundred years’.

Both brothers frowned in confusion.

‘Oh, the twin reactions. How I missed them’, Not-Crowley spoke and cleared his throat, making a pained face, ‘Forgive me. You can add thirsty to that list of things I currently am. Sheriff Mills gave me things so salty to eat any normal human would have trouble to consume them, still in the name of testing’, he raised his chin in pride, ‘And I ate all of it. You can ask her’.

‘Well done’, Dean praised under his breath.

He was heard, of course, and the ambiguity was perceived.

‘If you mean the Sheriff, I must remind you she has a bunch of younglings in the house. Treating a destitute stranger in such a way is not a good role model’, Not-Crowley raised a brow, ‘You should give her incentive to be a better host, Squirrel’.

The familiar nickname made the brothers exchange a look.

It pulled some strings.

An undeniable surge of affection passed by their faces, but both were too experienced on manipulation to fall so quickly.

‘We already know what you’ve been doing’, Sam spoke in an accusatory tone, ‘Jody told us everything on the phone’.

‘What do you mean?’, the man asked with an innocent face.

(A real innocent face.)

‘She mentioned the girls found you fun’, Dean stated, a small smile appearing.

‘They are the best’, Not-Crowley got excited, ‘A variety of characters and origins. Stories of resilience. And such good listeners!’, he smiled, ‘The Sheriff has a great bunch of girls, here’.

Dean scoffed, ‘Now I see why Jody was starting to get worried’.

The stranger’s eyes shone, ‘Because I’m that charming?’

‘Because you’re that insidious’, Sam crossed his arms stubbornly.

‘I should have known better than trust you on trusting me’, the man pursed his lips at the taller Winchester, ‘Even if I’m used to the ill treatment coming from you, Moose’.

‘You make it difficult to believe you’re not Crowley, with the nicknames and the attitude’.

‘Well, he’s all sensitive and touchy…’, Dean pondered at his brother, ‘He does sound like junkie Crowley’.

‘Exactly!’, the man grinned in renewed enthusiasm, sitting at the edge of the sofa again, ‘The human blood brought back empathy and emotions! It simulated a soul!’, he made the wider gestures possible, given his joined wrists, ‘When the meatsuit died in self-sacrifice in the other universe, the demon Crowley got his soul reconstituted, and that’s how I came to be!’

‘So… You’re Crowley plus a soul?’, Dean frowned, confused, ‘And what is that?’, he smirked, ‘A Crowsoul? A Souley?’

Sam rolled his eyes.

‘Really, boys?’, the man was indignant, ‘After all we’ve gone through, if someone knows that answer, it’s you!’

Before Sam and Dean could ask for the man to explain himself further, there was knocking on the front door.

Dean made a gesture for them to wait and went to open it, coming back followed by a familiar face.

The man in the sofa struggled to get up.

If he had been excited to see Sam and Dean, now he was obviously out of himself in shock and some deeply emotional thing.

When he managed to stand, he walked towards the newcomer and spoke in a rough voice, ‘Robert?’

The older hunter stared at him from head to toe, frowning, then turned to the boys, ‘Who’s that, again?’

Not-Crowley gave a quick step behind, squared his shoulders and tilted his head, frowning back, ‘Not Robert?’

Sam moved to stand between them, ‘This is not the Bobby you knew, Crowley’.

‘I’m not Crowley’, the man corrected, then leaned to look around Sam, ‘If he’s not our Robert, who is he?’

‘First of all, let’s stop with the possessives’, Dean cut off, ‘This is, well, Apocalypse Bobby. He came from the Universe where you-well, where Crowley died’, he turned to the hunter, ‘And this is the meatsuit of a demon called Crowley. He was King of Crossroads, then King of Hell…’

‘Is he still a demon?’, Bobby cut the explanation off, not interested in the details, a hand going for something concealed on his back – probably a gun.

‘It seems he is not’, Sam answered quickly, ‘Jody made all the tests’.

‘Where were you until now, darling? Waiting outside for an ambush?’, Not-Crowley stared up and down at the bearded hunter, seemingly decided to provoke him through the mimicry of his gestures towards himself. 

‘Not helping, buddy’, Sam hissed at the shorter man, then turned to the older hunter, who still had his hand on his back, ‘It’s ok, Bobby. We’ve got this’.

Bobby still squinted at Not-Crowley, but nodded curtly and let his arms fall to his sides.

‘I can guarantee I’m completely free of demonic essence’, Not-Crowley chimed in, ‘The Sheriff was very through’.

‘Uhum’, Bobby nodded, his face still closed in a scowl, ‘I saw her leaving’.

‘And you wouldn’t want to meet her?’, the man squinted, ‘Have you done something inappropriate to the lady?’

‘I prefer not to meet people who knew the other me’, Bobby spoke, obviously unhappy to explain himself, ‘Folk get uncomfortable’.

‘You mean you get uncomfortable’, Not-Crowley made a derisive face, ‘The comparisons must be disheartening’. 

Bobby pointedly ignored the jab and spoke to the Winchesters, ‘Why are we wasting time with him?’

‘I can’t believe I’ve heard the sax intro of Careless Whispers in my mind at the sight of you’, not-Crowley kept attacking, ‘What a waste of a soundtrack in such an uncaring version of our Bobby Singer’.

‘If you’re really human, you should not test my patience’, Bobby squinted, the hand reaching for the gun again, ‘Not that what I have here can’t shut you even if you are somewhat a concealed demon’.

‘That’s no way of speaking to someone, demon or not demon’.

‘You’re a bit late for Demonic Civil Rights’.

‘It’s always time to fight bigotry’.

‘Confessing you’re still a demon, then?’

‘I don’t have to be a demon to recognize misconceptions and stupidity’, Not-Crowley scoffed, ‘By the way, you insult yourself when you mock someone with intentions as good as mine’.

‘Good intentions pave the road to Hell’.

‘How original, darling’.

‘I’m not a darling to anyone, much less the kinds of you’.

‘That’s easy to see’.

Bobby turned suddenly to the Winchesters, ‘I’ll ask again: why are we wasting our time with him?’

Sam and Dean had been following the exchange of insults and menaces as if it were a tennis match, and were startled when the older hunter interrupted the flux to drag them in.

The shorter man was red-faced in angriness at the other’s move, ‘Maybe you don’t know, Mister Singer, but the demon who habited this meatsuit died for these boys. They bothered to come here because they are decent men – something they learned from their surrogate father, who was obviously a better person than you will ever be’.

Bobby glared, ‘You don’t know me’.

The Winchesters just stared.

The reversed roles – a version of Crowley who supported them, a version of Bobby who didn’t have good comebacks – made them feel like they had suddenly been thrown in an alternate universe.

‘Well, maybe you know why they are here, and you just don’t care’, Not-Crowley shrugged sarcastically, ‘I guess your reality didn’t have Sam and Dean Winchester, once the Apocalypse happened, there, and I know for a fact they are the ones who saved the world from that’, he threw a proud smile at the boys, then went on, ‘So, you didn’t help raising them, you didn’t have the opportunity to be the generous man the Bobby Singer I knew was, and you turned into an egocentric and misguided redneck’.

Bobby was fuming.

The way he looked at the other man had Sam and Dean in alert, ready to intervene at any moment. 

Not-Crowley raised his chin in challenge, ‘I bet you have been outright unsavory to them. You’re probably aware that they don’t have the heart to send you away because you remind them too much of their surrogate father, and you’re abusing your staying because, as I already stated, you’re too egotistical to do what’s best for other people and just leave’.

The brothers shuffled, nervous.

It was too close to the truth, given the arguments and dire situations they had been with that version of Bobby.

‘I knew it’, the shorter man resumed when he noticed the reactions of the boys and Bobby’s momentary casted down eyes, ‘When the demon Crowley sacrificed himself, it reverted him to his previous state of humanity’, his eyes shone, ‘I’m sure even with all the nasty memories that stay here…’, he pointed at his own head, ‘…still I can be more affectionate towards these two than you’.

Bobby spoke through clenched teeth, ‘I’ve met Sam and Dean little more than a year ago. They know better than to expect me to be what the other me was to them’. 

‘Crowley was a demon and he had never met them in person when he decided to trust them with the Colt. He already knew they were some of the most heroic morons to have ever walked on Earth. The more they worked together, the more he trusted their abilities’, the man squinted, ‘Do your research, darling. It doesn’t take much to see what they’re worth. Unless, of course, you’re a self-centered redneck…’

‘You better watch your mouth…’

‘The Bobby I knew would be mad at himself if he ever got close to being egocentric’.

‘I’m not him…’

‘He would always put others first, even when it hurt him’.

‘And maybe that’s why he is dead’.

Not-Crowley was deeply offended, ‘How dare you-’

‘Wo-a!’, Dean stepped between the two, ‘Enough. This is getting out of hand’.

‘Bobby, we owe some consideration to Crowley, demon or not demon’, Sam tried to reason with the older hunter, ignoring the annoyed murmurs of ‘I’m not Crowley’ behind him, ‘He died trying to exile Lucifer in your apocalyptic reality. Before that, he joined forces with us, Castiel, his mother…’, he was going to add something else, but suddenly he did a double take and stared at the shorter man in realization, ‘If you are Crowley before he was Crowley, it means you are… Fergus?’

‘Finally!’, the man rejoiced, ‘Always knew I could count on your nerdy brain, Moose!’, he looked apologetically at Dean’s affronted expression, ‘Don’t get me wrong, Squirrel. I have the utmost respect for your talents, too, but solving some puzzles are not your specialty’.

‘All right’, Dean shrugged, ‘Just tell your tale, then’.

The man smiled at the trust he could already see in both boys’ attitudes, ‘I am Fergus McLeod, again. Not in flesh and bones, obviously, because the original ones have not been a part of me for centuries, but with the emotions and conscience of the human I was, and all the memories and life experiences from both – human and demon’, he made a face, ‘Well, not all memories. My time on the rack is a bit clouded, as some of the evilest things I did as a demon. I must say I’m grateful for that. I guess a soul can’t bear some things’, he looked at the boys, his eyes softening, ‘You understand it better than anyone, don’t you?’

Sam and Dean stared back in awe.

They were struck by how much it made sense, now.

The man in front of them was what they could expect from Crowley with a soul: the teasing that managed to be friendly and improper; the harsh attitude that served to protect himself but often included the ones he considered allies; the self-awareness that made it difficult for him to admit he was fond of them out of off-handed half-mockery. 

It was all there, out in the open.

And now the brothers were torn between greeting the man back, acknowledging how much they missed him and appreciated what he had done for them, or throwing all the questions they had on where he had been for the last year and a half.

The one to break the moment of hesitance was Bobby, who advanced and, to the other’s surprise, extended a hand, ‘It’s nice to meet someone else that is just kind of new to everybody. Welcome, Fergus’.

‘Well, well, maybe there’s hope for you’, the shorter man raised his joined hands to reciprocate the gesture, shaking Bobby’s hand in both of his, ‘Thank you, Robert’, he kept the hand between his and spoke in a silky voice, ‘May I call you Robert?’

‘I’m Bobby without being Bobby to everybody, here’, the man shrugged, ‘Another name is not going to bother me’.

‘What’s in a name, isn’t it?’

The man – Fergus – spoke and winked.

Bobby groaned something unintelligible that sounded like he was bothered but didn’t made any move to get his hand free from the other’s grasp.

‘You’re at least the same gruff one I remember’, Fergus chuckled at the reaction, ‘Must be an essential part of you’.

‘For Chuck sake, tone down the heart eyes, Crowley’, Dean scolded.

‘It’s Fergus’, he corrected and let go of Bobby’s hand slowly, making clear how disappointed it made him.

‘We must get back to the bunker’, Sam stated, then turned to Fergus, ‘I suppose you wanted to join us, if you looked for Jody’.

‘Yes’, he confirmed, ‘I owe you a lot. It’s just right that I dedicate this new chance of a human existence doing my best to help you’.

‘Are you sure it’s not because you have nowhere else to go?’, Bobby threw Fergus a suspicious look.

‘You could start a new life’, Sam tried to mend the harsh declaration, picking the key the Sheriff had given him and holding Fergus’ hands in an attempt to distract him while opening the handcuffs, ‘Far from monsters’.

‘And do what? Be again a poor tailor in a small town? Get desperate among the common folk and drink until I forget I never knew my father? That my mother tried to sell me for three pigs and, when she didn’t succeed, abandoned me? Loose all hope of happiness and end up selling my soul again for some illusion of self-satisfaction?’, the short man stopped speaking and massaged his now free wrists, ‘Thank you, Moose’, he said, sincerely, then frowned, ‘Sorry for the outburst, people. I woke up in a hospital some months ago after a coma and with a soul filled with emotions. People there were nice and helped me through the rehabilitation process, but I believe my innards are still a wee disorganized, in the real and metaphorical senses’.

Everybody nodded respectfully.

‘About your mother…’, Sam started.

‘Maybe it’s not the moment, Sammy’, Dean warned.

‘What?’, Fergus asked, agitated, ‘Last news I had of the witch, Lucifer had managed to kill her’.

‘Well, the woman is full of surprises’, Dean provided, against his better judgement.

Fergus just looked from one brother to the other, confused.

Dean decided to say it straight, ‘Rowena is alive’.

‘She has changed’, Sam added, ‘She works with us when we need her’, he pressed his lips, undecisive, then said, ‘Your death was very hard on her’.

‘She killed reapers to try to blackmail Death into bringing you back’, Dean helped, ‘Some hardcore stuff’.

Fergus froze.

Paled.

And swayed.

‘Hey!’, Dean yelled, ‘Don’t faint- Damn it!’ 

Luckily, Bobby was fast enough to catch the man in his arms before he fell to the floor.


	2. First and second impressions

Fergus tried to pretend he was unconscious for more time than he really was, but Dean seized the opportunity to slap him some times in the face, and he resigned to grunt and grab at Bobby’s arm for a balance he obviously didn’t need.

Leaving the Sheriff’s house at open sight with a seemingly groggy guy was not the best, but at least was less suspicious than carrying a body; besides, the boys had been travelling for almost one week now, and saying they were homesick was an understatement.

So,the way to the Impala was made with not much fuss.

They wanted to hit the road as soon as possible, butnot before stopping at the Police Station to give back the keys and update Jody on the situation.

Fergus entered the car with the expected easy, occupying eagerly the back seat; the moment Bobby settled besides him, the older hunter saw himself being attacked by the Scotsman: a head was lodged on his shoulder, a sneaky arm entwined in his.

Bobby growled, ‘What the Hell you think you’re doing?’

‘Getting comfortable’, the man rubbed against him, ‘Has someone ever told you how much of a fluffy pillow you are?’

Sam turned to check on the guys in the back seat and, seeing their positions – Fergus smiling softly while nestled on Bobby, Bobby with a face that was the perfect mix of bothered and touched –, smirked and called Dean, who was starting the car, ‘Check this out’.

The older brother used the rear mirror to see what was happening and smirked, ‘Guy’s already pawing you, Bobby?’, he shook his head in amusement, ‘All that bickering meant something, then’.

‘Yeah, it meant he thinks I’m not using my elbow on him if I have to’.

‘Oh, I feel dizzy...’, Fergus murmured, ‘Think I’ll close my eyes to rest a bit’.

And so he did.

The boys chuckled.

Bobby rolled his eyes but, like in Jody’s house, didn’t move to separate himself from the man.

Well, it didn’t mean he was not going to tease, ‘He seems too in touch with his feelings for someone who used to be a demon’, the hunter commented, loud and clear, to the Winchesters, ‘Not that I had ever seen one before. Thought it was not even possible’.

‘We have seen cured demons’, Sam provided info, hesitating for a moment and throwing a subtle look at his brother, then deciding not to mention he was one of those demons cured, ‘Some get emotional when they have a soul back and realize what they did’.

‘This guy we didn’t cure, but saw on the edge of humanity’, Dean added, deciding to leave aside his brother would have died if they had cured Crowley, ‘He is nice as it is. You don’t want to see the crying mess we had to deal with, and the process was not even complete’.

‘I hope he is not going to be trouble’, Sam sighed, from shotgun,‘All we don’t need is a three hundred years old Scottish guy throwing tantrums’.

‘Or covered in snot’, Dean shrugged.

Fergus scoffed without opening his eyes.

‘Was he much problem, before?’, Bobby asked, adjusting his shoulder to accommodate the other when the Impala turned a corner, ‘When he was a demon, I mean. You said he was kind of big’.

‘You have no idea how much problem he was’, Dean smiled fondly, ‘We’ll update you on the way’.

xxx

 

Sam and Dean started by telling the highlights ofBobby’s relationship with Crowley: the deal to find Death, the picture of the deal in the demon’s cellphone, the gift of the legs that was never explained.

Fergus didn’t say a word. It seemed he had decided to found out what the boys had to say about him.

They had just reached the part of the story that had their Bobby managing to blackmail Crowley and getting his soul back when they arrived at the Station.

Fergus pretended to wake up the moment the car stopped and left a bewildered Bobby behind to follow the boys to the spot where Jody was waiting for them.

‘You’re taking him with you, then?’, the Sheriff asked, eyes on the former demon, who was standing a bit aside from the group, face serious and hands joined on his back, the image of perfect behavior.

‘Yeah, he convinced us enough’, Sam said.

‘It’s not like he can be an ass in the bunker without us using our own cuffs on him’, Dean added.

The Sheriff nodded at them and they hugged their goodbyes.

When the boys stepped aside, Fergus approached Jody.

He reached out and took her hand to kiss it gentlemanly, ‘Thank you for the help, Sheriff Mills. I’m sorry for any inconveniences I have caused, and I forgive you for the repetitive and unnecessary testing you submitted me to’.

She rolled her eyes at the ‘forgive’ part, but didn’t correct him.She even had a fond expression on her face when he finished his statement.

Dean and Sam were already turning to walk to the Impala, convinced the show was over the moment Fergus let go of the Sheriff’s hand.

However, they froze in shock and reached for their guns in the next moment, because the man had unexpectedly pulled the woman to him.

Jody was a bit startled when theygot that close, but soon she realized he was just imitating what he had seen her doing with the boys and permitted him to hold her.

She looked meaningfully atSam and Deanfor them to calm down (the brothers were already half way to grab Fergus by the collar) while she accepted the hug.

‘Behave yourself, ok?’, Jody patted Fergus’ back amicably, ‘I’ll feel responsible if you do anything you shouldn’t’.

He pulled apart, smiling at her, ‘You can trust me, Sheriff. Just two days under your watchful eye and I already feel a better person’, at her squint, he gave her a lopsided grin, ‘I’m serious, and I’ll prove it. I will honor the trust you put in me when you accepted me in your own home’, he raised his brows, ‘Speaking of that: transmit my best wishes and most thankful feelings to your girls. They made me feel at home when everything was uncertain and dubious’.

Jody nodded, very ladylike, pressing her lips to not laugh at the display, ‘Yeah, I’ll transmit your message’.

‘Thank you’, he answered with an earnest grin, and turned away from her.

The moment he did it, he was faced by two Winchesters with guns still drawn and confused faces.

‘You have some quite worrying trust issues, boys’, Fergus smirked, walking between them, ‘Fortunately, I’m back and ready to work on it’.

‘Says the one who told us not to trust anyone, ever’, Dean grunted, lowering his gun, in what he was followed by Sam.

‘People change’, Fergus reached the Impala, opened the door and entered, the boys right after him, ‘And now I’m people again’, he added, waving one last time to Jody, who waved back and disappeared in the Station.

The moment the car started moving, Fergus spoke again, ‘She’s gone. You can get out of your hole, now’.

He was talking to Bobby, who had been scorched on the back seat to hide, ‘Shut up, you’.

‘Such a cozy body and such a disappointing personality’, Fergus commented, eyeing teasingly the older hunter, ‘But we have a quite similar history, don’t you think?’, noticing the hunter was making a point of sitting as far from him as possible, he rolled his eyes, ‘If you keep the attitude you won’t be in my good graces any soon’.

‘If it means you keep your claws off me, I’m good’.

‘I get you’re not into scratches, then’, Fergus smirked, ‘My renewed humanity is surprisingly docile in what regards intimacy’, now he grinned, ‘We may be more alike than I had supposed’.

‘Aren’t you pretending to sleep again?’, Dean groaned from the driver seat, ‘We can do without that much information’.

‘Hey’, Fergus was affronted, ‘I’m a citizen, now. Well, kind of. I have my rights, and free speech is one of them’.

‘The more you talk, the more you remind us of the demon we knew’, Sam warned, ‘And we still can change our minds about taking you with us’.

‘I promise to keep to myself if you intend on telling Robert more about me and my pretty story’, he rested a hand on Bobby’s forearm as if it was the most natural thing in the world, without taking his eyes off the brothers, ‘You’ve been doing it beautifully, boys’.

Bobby shook his arm to free himself, ‘What else is to tell? I already got you were a royal ass’.

‘In more than one way’, Fergus smirked, ‘After all, I was a King’.

‘Do you want to help with the rest of the story?’, Sam asked, his face showing some gentleness, ‘I guess you want to give your version’.

‘That’s surprisingly nice of you’, Fergus answered, and breathed deeply, ready to begin.

‘Just one thing, before you start talking and never stop again’, Dean chimed in, ‘You said you were in a coma. You stayed more than a year in a hospital? How is it you don’t have any residual stuff from that? And who got you there, if you were in a coma?’

‘Medical staff said I was found unconscious in a spot I later found out was the gates of the destroyed Singer’s Yard. I suppose it says something about Fate’, he threw a leer at Bobby, who scowled in response, and resumed, ‘I was rescued by some good Samaritans and taken to the nearest hospital, where I was treated for three months. It was not a deep coma; thus, there was not damage to my brain. I could even do simple tasks, like walk on the corridors with assistance and brush my own teeth’.

At that point, everybody was engaged in the story, and even Bobby had stopped fussing at Fergus’ knee touching his.

‘I suppose it was a healing period. For some time I didn’t remember much, and then my mind started providing scenes and names and situations. It was like daydreaming – I remembered dying in the other universe, I remembered you, I remembered some things about being the King of Hell, and then about the crossroads’.

‘You had your memory coming back in reverse?’, Bobby asked, intrigued.

‘Exactly. I would sleepwalk from a side to the other, be fed and treated, remember random things and, when I took a nap, those things would get organized in a systematic dream’, Fergus sighed, ‘It was a quite slow process, until the night when I slept for hours – something that had never happened – and dreamed of my whole life in Scotland. When I woke up from that I was completely lucid and knew that everything that I had seen in my mind was real memories’.

‘And that’s when you decided to look for Jody?’, Sam asked.

‘Not yet, Moose. Things got a wee complicated’, he licked his lips, ‘My fingertips had no match in any archives or systems in the whole country, and people wanted explanations’, he raised his brows in a ‘you get it’ expression, ‘They had already contacted Interpol when I first appeared, once I had no identification, no one remembered ever seeing my pretty face and I had the habit of mumbling unintelligible things with a foreign accent, but found nothing there, either, as expected’.

‘When did Crowley take that meatsuit?’, Sam asked.

‘This body...’, Fergus stressed the words, ‘...was occupied in the middle 90’s’, again, he threw a quick look at Bobby, who was trying to hide the fact he was checking him out, and went on, pretending he had not noticed, ‘If they had access to Hell’s archives, maybe the situation would be different’, Fergus grinned proudly, ‘I’ve heard the former King was very organized’.

‘It fell into chaos after you left’, Dean said.

‘Well, it means there’s no way anyone can locate registers of me here, there or anywhere, then’.

‘Ihave a quite similar problem’, Bobby commented dryly.

‘Depending on the State, we too’, Dean spoke, chuckling.

Sam smiled, shaking his head in amusement. Then, brought the conversation back on track, ‘What did you do, then?

‘I lied. Said I had no memory. People were mortified at my sad destiny and I ended up in some temporary jobs at the hospital – cooking, walking the elder,disposingof dangerous material’, at the horrified looks, he rolled his eyes, ‘They offered training and I’m a quick student. I managed all the tasks beautifully’, Fergus smirked, ‘Just for your information, I was even permitted to help in the pediatric session. The toddlers loved me’.

‘If it was all unicorns and rainbows, why leave?’, Bobby frowned.

‘Because lyingwas not as easy as it had been before. Lying to nice people who just wanted to help made me feel like a cad.It was making me sick’, Fergus looked down at his hands, suddenly serious, ‘I ran away. Didn’t even had the heart to say goodbye’.

‘I get it’, Sam could sympathize, ‘Sometimes it’s better this way’.

‘Sometimes it is the only way’, Dean pondered.

Fergus shrugged off the sadness, motivated by the understanding, and raised his eyes to look fondly at the man by his side, ‘I knew Sioux Falls was the land of Bobby Singer, who I adored but was dead, and of Sheriff Mills, who probably would have a coronary the moment she saw me, but who I expected was alive…’

‘Not if it depended on you’, Dean chimed in.

‘Crowley was a demon’, Fergus retorted, ‘He wanted things his way, no matter the lives he would have to take or the evil he would have to inflict. I can’t stand it now, but I was there for the whole ride. I saw it through his eyes. I can understand’. 

‘Sometimes you speak as if he was not a part of you’, Sam was sincerely intrigued, ‘How did it work? You were asleep inside him or what?’

Fergus tilted his head, pondering on the answer. Then, he spoke tentatively, ‘You lived without a soul for some time, Sam. It’s not quite the same, because demons are not the absence of a soul, but the essence of a human soul transformed into a distorted thing’, Sam nodded, understanding, and he went on, ‘I was not there, technically, because Fergus was the soul; however, I was there in some way, because the essence of Fergus was the source for the demon Crowley’, he breathed deeply, ‘Now, when I remember my existence after the racks, it’s like playing a game in first person where you are the character but you don’t have complete control over what the character is doing’, he shrugged, ‘I feel detached from all demonic affairs and experiences, even if I remember most of them; I have fresh memories of my human life, even if it happened centuries ago’.

‘The game thing makes sense’, Dean praised, ‘It’s kind of what I went through when I was a demon –I couldn’t care less about anything but myself.Like everything was a big game and I had no one to answer about whatever I did’.

Fergus fidgeted, ‘I didn’t want to mention that. I didn’t know you were all right to speak about it in front of your brother’.

Sam raised his brows, ‘That’s very considerate’.

‘I’m just a stupid emotional human, now, who gets guilty and attached too easily for his own comfort. I stayed less than 48 hours in the Sheriff’s house and I know I’ll miss the girls and send them Christmas cards. The Sheriff herself punched me and kept me cuffed and I understand it completely and don’t even keep a grudge’, Fergus huffed, ‘I don’t need anyone bringing on me what Crowley did – or what I someway did while I was Crowley’, he rested his back against the seat, ‘My brain show me things as if it was me for most of it, and I feel adequately guilty, thank you very much’.

There was silence in the car for some moments.

Bobbyspoke quietly, ‘Everybody has their regrets’.

The three other men nodded respectfully.

‘So, was Crowley really different from other demons?’, Sam wanted to know, ‘He was a jerk, sometimes, but he did some unexpected good things for us’.

‘He saved our asses more than once’, Dean added, ‘He saved Cas’ life more than once’.

‘He-We liked you’, Fergus answered, ‘I didn’t know family when I was a human. The concept of family was strange to me. The racks didn’t create a brainless idiot like they should – they left behind something of my humanity’, he blinked in thought, ‘That thing came alive rarely, in the beginning. In those moments it was like Fergus came to the surface and... I don’t know, merged with the demon he was turned into. But then you came into my life...’, he pointed at the boys, ‘You, beautiful mountains of plaid, and theobnoxious notion that I was missing something important came alive more and more often’. 

‘The blood addiction was just the last drop, then’, Dean said.

Fergus nodded, ‘The demon Crowleyhad been self-aware because somehow I was still there; he didn’t have much patience for other demons because he knew he was not like them; he developed emotional bonds with people he admired and, in his own sicko way, he wanted to be admired back’.

‘He wanted to be loved’, Sam said.

Fergus opened his mouth, but no sound came out.

He looked through the window in silence.

‘Hey’, Bobby approached enough to rest a hand on his forearm, what attracted Fergus’ eyes to him, ‘You’re all right, buddy?’

‘No’, Fergus sniffed, ‘Dealing with the turmoil of emotions’, he pressed his lips together, ‘Being around you all again is...’

His voice was caught in his throat.

‘You don’t have to tell everything now. We’ll have time for the harsh truths later’.

Bobby spoke and offered a smile.

One of those smiles that reminded everybody he was basically the same Bobby they had known.

‘Thank you, Robert’, Fergusmanaged to compose himself, then looked at Sam, who was staring at him in worry, ‘That’s one of my clearest memories while a demon’.

‘The third trial?’

‘Yes’.

Sam nodded in understanding, ‘That was a night to not forget’.

‘Being a junkie distracted the demon enough to open the doorofthe attic where Crowley had locked you’.

‘It’s a way to phrase it, Squirrel’, Fergus shrugged.

‘You keep mentioning the junkie stuff’, Bobby frowned, ‘What does it mean?’

‘Who tells him?’, Sam asked, respectful of the other man’s emotions.

‘We do it together’, Fergus smiled, ‘Prepare the hankies, love. It’s an emotional tale’.

 

xxx

 

When they set foot on the stairs behind the doors of the bunker, many hours later, Mary and Castiel were waiting for them in the main room.

Mary Winchester hugged her boys when they reached the floor, ‘So…’, she crossed her arms, looking at the shorter man, ‘Is he Crowley?’

‘No’, Sam spoke before the man could, a reassuring hand on his shoulder, ‘He is Fergus – the guy Crowley was back in Scotland, before turning into a demon’.

‘He got his soul back’, Dean added, throwing a look at Castiel, who was having a hard time deciding if he stared at Dean or at their new companion.

‘A soul and all the knowledge, maturity and heartwarming feelings I didn’t have access before’, Fergus extended a hand to Mary, ‘It’s a pleasure to meet you again, Mrs Winchester. I hope I can make a better impression, this time’.

She hesitated for a moment, but accepted the gesture and shook the hand firmly, ‘You better do, or I’ll make sure to kick your ass’.

‘It’s so nice to be among Winchesters again…’, Fergus said and, even if it was intended as a joke, everybody could see he was really glad to be back. He turned to Castiel, ‘Same goes to you, angel. I hope you can see I’m changed and came here to be useful in a good way’.

‘Yes, I can see your soul’, Castiel nodded, ‘And it is very bright’, he gave a small smile, ‘Congratulations for the new opportunity’.

Fergus grinned, ‘The most handsome angel in the garrison just said my soul is bright. It’s the best compliment ever’, he winked at Dean, ‘Don’t be jealous, Squirrel’.

Dean rolled his eyes, not really minding the tease.

‘I’ll take care of my gear’, Bobby announced, ‘See you later’.

The older hunter spoke and exited the room without looking back.

Fergus frowned, ‘Is he always rude like that?’

‘It’s still awkward for him and Mary to be in the same room’, Castiel clarified, to everybody’s embarrassment.

‘Why?’, Fergus was confused, ‘Did they fight for the custody of the boys?’

‘They were not really married, just dating’, Castiel answered, very serious, ‘And Sam and Dean are too old to be given into custody, under the law of any American state-’

‘They were dating?!’, Fergus asked, then looked at Mary, not caring for the angel’s unnecessary explanation, ‘You and Bobby were dating?’, at her nod, he made a disgusted face, ‘That’s creepy’.

The brothers were shocked.

The man seemed to have the ability to say things too close to the truth when Bobby was concerned.

Mary opened her mouth to say something, closed it again, then crossed her arms or her chest and stated firmly, ‘Let it go’.

Fergus was wide eyed at her tone.

He raised his hands in a peace offer, ‘I’m sorry. I know the Winchester trademark ‘we don’t talk about this’ face, and I know better than to be disrespectful’.

Everybody nodded at him in approval.

Sam smiled, patting Fergus’ arm, ‘Let’s pick a room for you’.

‘I don’t see a bag’, Mary frowned, looking around, ‘You don’t have anything?’

‘I discarded most of what I was given by the hospital staff in the area surrounding the place, so it could be easily found’, he seemed suddenly shy, ‘Pondered they should give those things to someone who really deserved them, not a liar’.

Everybody was shocked at those words.

Everybody but Castiel, who smiled, ‘Your soul just glowed’.

‘Stop staring’, Fergus scrunched his nose, ‘It’s embarrassing’. 

‘Better get used to it. That’s how we humans feel under his watching eye’, Dean said.

‘I don’t watch humanity all the time, Dean’, Castiel contradicted, ‘And I’m sorry if my special attention to you is bothering’.

‘Hey!’, Fergus grinned, ‘Did I miss something? Have you two admitted your feelings for one another while I was out?’ 

‘Shut your trap’, Dean pointed a finger at him, ‘Sam, let’s see where we can shelf him’.

‘Hope you’re not thinking of the dungeon’, Fergus recoiled a bit, ‘The place was dark and lonely. I don’t want to go there again’.

The three Winchesters and their angel looked at the former demon.

What they were seeing was real fear.

The way Dean had spoken made the man remember some of his worst experiences in the bunker. Trauma was a very human thing, and everybody in the room understood it.

‘Get your tail off between your legs’, Dean declared, firmly but gently, ‘You’re not a prisoner’.

Fergus relaxed, ‘I missed your eloquence, Squirrel’.

The older brother smiled, ‘Same here, buddy’.


	3. Home, sweet home

Fergus had said he wanted to be useful.

Well, he was very useful.

And a lot more.

 

xxx

 

Even with the relatively limited capacity of the human brain, he was a great source of demonic information – in fact, a great source of information on a lot of supernatural things. 

The bunker’s inhabitants teased him about his old age (“You’ve been around before radio, dude!”, Dean would say it every time as if it was shocking news) and possible memory issues, but everybody stressed that he still had more knowledge than any hunter, too, and no qualms about sharing it, what was great.

Fergus just lost the spot of older and more knowledgeable creature in the bunker to Castiel. So, the answer to Dean’s jokes often were something along the lines of how cute it was that they shared a taste for older men – with winks threw at Bobby and the angel.

It was very rewarding.

 

xxx

 

It was lucky that Fergus was as sharp minded as he had been while Crowley, because he was a lost cause when action was needed.

Without his powers, he had to go through the whole process of learning again how to shoot and fight. Being a middle-aged human out of shape made urgent that he trained his body to at least defend himself.

Mary volunteered for some training sessions, and they soon bonded over adventurous life stories, their fondness of Sam and Dean and their teasing towards Bobby. 

Fergus would often made her laugh, amd the boys enjoyed seeing their mother finally having a close friend – specially a friend who lived with them and would make her want to stay.

However, Fergus started using that ability to amuse Mary to stop whatever exercise they were doing that he didn’t enjoy: she would double over in laughter and needed some time to breathe and recover.

Realizing his shenanigans and not having much patience for them, she started demainding more, throwing him around like a rag doll and not giving the former demon any chance to distract her from her mission.

When he knelt in front of her and pleaded for forgiveness, she said they were ok so quickly he knew something was coming his way.

 

xxx

 

Fergus soon found out what you get when you go wrong with a Winchester who likes you truly.

One day Mary arrived in the training with Bobby, informed Fergus that the hunter would take charge of the sparring sessions, waved and exited the room.

The two men stared at each other for long moments.

Then , Bobby took off his shirt for them to start.

Next time he was alone with Mary, Fergus knelt before her, but to kiss her hands reverently and thank her from the bottom of his heart for the opportunity of re-learning to fight being touched by a sweaty Robert.

 

Xxx

 

Fergus thought he should hide his giddyness for the change in teacher, in front of Bobby. He even pretended to go to the training against his will, dragging his feet and all.

However, sometimes he let out pleasured moans, and had to conceal some erections.

Ground fighting was specially difficult, with the grinding and grabbing and skin to skin.

Fergus didn’t know if his reactions bothered the hunter. Bobby never said a word about it.

And they had a lot of ground fighting classes.

 

Xxx

 

Unfortunately to Fergus, who loved a suit, passing as an FBI agent was not easy, with the accent and overall attitude. 

So, he just took part in interrogations if it was strictly necessary – when they needed to cover many fronts quickly and were at a shortage of people.

And he was never paired with Castiel because, no matter how much Dean warned the angel against it, Fergus always managed to convince him to do something improper or ridiculous.

(There was a limit of times for Sam and Mary calming down an annoyed Dean who insisted in defending his best friend’s honor.)

 

xxx

 

So, fighting and interrogating witnesses were off the table, but still there were two things Fergus could do very competently to help in the huntings. 

First one were the watch-outs.

He was a great observer and capable of standing in his post, eagle eyes and phone at hand, for whole nights. He was good company in such occasions, talking non-stop, enterntaining whoever was with him with a seemingly endless stream of stories, what always helped.

The other one was planning.

He often thought so out of the box that everybody recognized no monster had any chance against his strategies. He even made a name among hunters, who called the bunker to ask him for what to do when things seemed impossible to solve. 

(No one knew who he really was. Some suspected he was a former British Man of Letters, but who would have the guts to ask?)

 

xxx

 

Soon his roommates found out that Fergus loved tidying up things: from organizing shelves to gathering clothes and leaving them in neat piles at the doors of their owners.

The bunker had never been so clean and ordered.

It was a blessing and a curse.

The neat piles were considered progress from the initial attitude, that consisted basically on opening the doors to throw things inside without looking.

Fergus said it was ‘educational’, but Bobby was not amused to be hit in the face by piles of plaid, and they reached an agreement.

 

xxx

 

Fergus was happy doing a lot of things, but his preferred task, by far, was cataloging.

Planning and research were nice; when paired with Bobby, he could undo any intricate mystery in mere hours.

But cataloguing gave him peace.

It was satisfying like when he dreamed of an ordered Hell: he wanted things in their right places, contained, controlled, fixed. After a human life of misery, the demon Crowley craved for organization and controlin order to fight the Chaos of existence and make sure he would never be trampled by the circumstances again, and it stayed with Fergus. 

He quickly developed a passion for the material in the bunker, studied the Men of Letters’ system and debated with Sam how to improve it.

 

xxx

 

The best part about cataloging was that Bobby was initially wary, but soon got intrigued and surrendered to ‘the charms of the activity’, as Fergus elegantly put it. 

The life in an apocalyptic world hadn’t given him opportunity to be the avid reader the Bobby of this world had been – Apocalyptical Bobby was more of a soldier than of a scholar. However, it was a matter of time (and some insistence from the former demon) for him to cave in, and a matter of a very short time for him to gladly join Fergus for hours and hours of reading, taking notes and having arguments over classifications.

As much as Sam liked to be a part of it, he enjoyed watching their interactions, and often just sat aside to behold.

 

xxx

 

Fergus enjoyed cooking, too, and was very good at it. Everybody was happy to have one more guy in the bunker who could prepare a decent meal, adding his name to a list that already had Dean’s and Bobby’s.

Food was not an easy issue: Sam’s healthy snacks were not a favorite; Mary thanked all deities if she didn’t have to improvise in a kitchen; Bobby managed well the basics; if it depended on Dean, they would have pancakes and burgers everyday.

Castiel didn’t need ‘sustenance’, so he just supported whatever Dean chose.

Fergus was creative and loved going to town to buy things and test new recipes. He especially liked making that trip with Sam, whom he insisted was the most refined people in the bunker.

He often decided it was ‘Burger Night’, ‘Healthy Meal’, ‘Fancy Italian’ or ‘Japanese Wonder’, depending on whom he thought needed their favorite comfort food in that day.

The teasing about it was, obviously, never ending.

It went from Castiel praising Fergus for rejecting the sin of Sloth but questioning why he was trying to make everybody fall for Gluttony, and reached the point when Jody and the girls, in one of his visits to their house, gifted him with a collection of pretty aprons they had ordered specially for him, with writings like ‘Make Hell great again’, ‘Feeding Moose and Squirrel’ and the in-joke ‘I’m not Crowley’.

Fergus loved every one of them and sometimes had to be forced to take them off out of the kitchen.

He would often whine that they shouldn’t spread the news about his culinary talents to half the nation if they didn’t want him to be proud of it, to what Dean would retort that ‘One thing was being proud, another is throwing a parade’.

 

xxx

 

Curiously, the person who expressed his indignation at the fact none of the aprons had the classic ‘Kiss the cook’ written on it was Bobby.

Fergus was so surprised at the declaration he blushed, murmured something along the lines of ‘Excuse the housemaid, but he has things to do’ and hurried out the room.

The Winchesters and Castiel exhanged confused stares at the fact Fergus had averted what seemed to be flirting, and that Bobby had just let slip the kind of ideas the former demon in an apron gave him.

 

xxx

 

The nature of Fergus and Bobby’s relationship was a mystery for everyone in the bunker, including themselves.

Sometimes it went smooth, like when the former demon stopped a long cataloguing session to prepare them something to eat or using some physical humor to make the hunter laugh.

Bobby would help Fergus prepare them sandwiches, the whole time staying closer than necessary while working in the kitchen.

Fergus would steal the hunter’s glasses, put them on, strike a pose and ask if he had any chances of landing the role of Sexy Librarian #1 in a local production, to what Bobby would answer with a smirk that he better give the thing back if he wanted to keep any hope in casting couches happening for him.

(It was not clear if Bobby meant Fergus was attractive or that he, Bobby, was interested in offering that kind of test for him. As it always happened when the whole conversation was getting too risqué, the glasses were back to their owner and the subject was dropped for the time being.)

And then there were the days when things were not so smooth: Fergus would say ‘You’re rubbing me the wrong way, Robert’, and the answer would be a harsh ‘Be glad I’m rubbing you in any way’; or Bobby would throw a line about an apron that didn’t say to kiss the cook and Fergus would get unusually embarrassed.

And there were the rare days in which a word, a gesture – even a longer stare – would trigger something in Bobby, who would growl and leave the room.

It all happened in front of everyone, what left the group as confused by the interactions and change of hearts as the two men involved.

Fergus often sighed, lost.

Wooing this Robert Singer promised to be a very difficult task.

Luckily, they lived together and had a lot of time in their hands.

 

xxx

 

Fergus became part of the extended Winchester family quickly.

He was content and felt like belonging for the first time in his entire existence.

Obviously, something would happen to turn everything upside down.

 

xxx 

 

It was late night, and Fergus had been peacefully cataloging with Bobby in the war room since the morning, with just some small breaks to munch on something and go to the bathroom.

Sometimes they went on binges like that, working together with no sense of time passing.

When Sam came in with that guilty but determined face everybody knew meant trouble, both men set down the stacks of papers they had been perusing and threw him twin wary glares.

The Winchester blinked some times and ruffled his feet at the scrutiny, ‘Hey, guys’.

Bobby frowned, ‘Something the matter, boy?’

Fergus squinted, ‘You don’t seem to be here to preach us on our unhealthy habit of working non-stop, as usual’.

Sam got even more uncomfortable at being read so easily, ‘I... well... So, take this...’

‘Just say it, Moose’, Fergus cut him off, closing the folder he had been working on with more noise than necessary, ‘Make the announcement. We’re adults. Whatever it is, we can handle it’.

‘Ok’, the Winchester breathed deeply and spoke, loud and clear, ‘I called Rowena’.

‘Oh’, Fergus said.

If looks could kill, they would have a dead moose in the bunker.

The Scot gulped down the knot in his throat and asked coldly, ‘Why?’

‘Because we need information on witches for that case in Ohio, and she is our best shot’, noticing the man’s suspicious squint, he pulled a chair and sat down, changing his tone to persuasive, ‘Fergus, we’ve talked about it. We can’t hide from her that you’re back. It’s not fair’.

‘Yes, we’ve talked about it, and I remember telling you I don’t feel ready to face her’.

‘You’ve been here for half a year’.

‘Every person has their own time to deal with things. You should have not-’

‘It’s happening here’, Sam said, ‘The bunker has all you need to defend yourself, if it comes to that. But I doubt it. She sounded shocked but happy to hear about you’.

‘Hey’, Bobby spoke, covering Fergus’ hand on the table with his, ‘It’s done. Man up’.

Fergus looked at the hand on his.

It confused him when the older hunter reached out like that. It could be just a friendly gesture, but it felt intimate – especially because no one else touched him that way. 

Mary often dropped hints on why things had not worked between her and Bobby: she spoke of her love for John and how it impacted her to be with him again, thanks to the magic pearl the boys found: she remembered how sweet and comforting he was; she realized, meeting again, that real love is about finding peace and solace in the other, no matter what you’re going through.

And then she spoke of Bobby’s difficulties in leaving the past behind and open up to people in his life in the present; of the neverending turmoil and pain she saw in his eyes, even when they seemed to be in good terms.

Fergus and Mary had radically different personalities – she was hardened and down to Earth, he turned to be a cinnamon roll with touches of sad puppy under a façade of snark and playfulness – but both agreed that Bobby was a difficult and unpredictable character, who didn’t manage well the suffering life had inflicted on him.

Fergus often wondered if one day this Robert would enchant him like his Robert had been able to.

His Robert.

A pang of sadness hit Fergus.

How he missed that Robert – his generosity, his sweetness, his teasing, his genius.

The way he talked, his bad taste in clothes, his courage.

They had one kiss and the hunter used tongue, deciding to enjoy the moment as much as he could when he realized there was no way out of it.

The demon Crowley had sealed deals with many homophobic men, and he knew Bobby was not one of them when he suddenly grabbed his tie and made sure that sole kiss was unforgettable for both of them.

‘For Chuck’s sake, Robert, don’t say ‘man up’ as if it was synonyms with braveness. It’s misogynist and old fashioned in a disappointing way’.

Fergus spoke and closed his eyes in regret.

Sometimes he resented that version of someone he had cared for so deeply even when he was a demon and shouldn’t feel anything.

Being human was messy. His stupid brain made him put off his chest things that bothered him and then regret it in the next moment because his instincts screamed that it was wrong to hurt others to feel a bit better. 

‘I’m sorry’, he threw an earnest look at the man by his side, who hadn’t taken his hand away but was frowning at him with something akin to worry, ‘I didn’t have to say it’.

‘Yeah, there are other ways to chastise me’, Bobby gave a small understanding smile, ‘But I stand corrected’.

Fergus gave a weak smile back.

In that moment, he saw his Robert again, and it required a great effort for him to keep in mind that he was mistaken – that man was not his Robert, and it would be unfair and disrespectful to forget that.

He turned to Sam, blinked out the wetness in his eyes and squared his shoulders, ‘I suppose the old mug has a point – it is done. So, I’ll face the consequences of your well-intended but moronic actions, Moose’.

Sam smiled at the familiar teasing, ‘Thanks for understanding, Fergus. She has been an ally. It matters a lot that she knows we don’t want to hide important things from her’.

‘And I’m important’, Fergus scoffed.

‘A lot’.

The Scotsman lowered his eyes, but nodded in acceptance.

Accepting honest praises and words of affection was still difficult, but he was getting better at it.

‘Have you told her I’m human?’

‘Yes. She will get here knowing what to expect’.

Fergus raised his brows at that.

It was not so simple.

Bobby let go of his hand to accommodate better in the chair, ‘When is she coming?’

Sam got up hurriedly, ‘She is… uhm… on her way’.

Fergus tilted his head, ‘How much time do I have?’

‘Nine...’, Sam gave some steps to put distance between them.

‘Days?’, both older guys asked.

‘Hours’, Sam muttered, ‘She will be here in the morning’.

‘Bollocks!’

 

Xxx

 

Fergus was terrified.

He barely slept, that night. He rolled on the sheets to the point of getting entangled in them.

It was disturbing to relive the sensation of having a mind that couldn’t stop working. When he was a demon, there was no rest for his brain; as a human, he needed that rest, but the situation at hand had him so wired he couldn’t relax.

Mary had spoken to him in the kitchen, after dinner, suggesting he prepared a tea set. She guessed offering tea was a good ice-breaker and could be read as a peace offer. Fergus liked the idea and left everything ready.

Dean knocked on his door soon after everybody said theyr goodnights.

The older Winchester brother always announced he was against chick-flicks, but he sat at Fergus’ bed and spoke of how difficult it was to deal with their feelings towards their mothers. He spoke of the time he entered Mary’s head to take her out of some Brittish Men of Letters brain-washing and ended up expressing his feelings to her – a mix of hate and love – and told Fergus to be atrong and accept that things were not easy. 

The former demon was thankful for what people tried to do for him, and it helped, but not enough for him to calm down completely.

He couldn’t help but envisioning as many scenarios as he could in his head. He wanted to be prepared for whatever happened.

However, the scenarios turned out to be all saddening.

They included Rowena using her powers to curse or try to kill him; Rowena staying just enough time to make sure he was a useless human and going away without looking back; Rowena mocking him mercilessly until he cried in front of her.

He tried to think positive and fantasize about her looking at him with fondness, but he never saw that expression on her face towards him, what created a knot in his stomach and made impossible to go on with that line of thinking.

At some point he felt physically sick and sat on the bed, head on his trembling hands.

 

xxx

 

When the clock informed him it was early in the morning, Fergus decided it was day enough to knock on someone’s door to ask for solace without sounding indecent. 

So, he straightened his pajama shirt the best he could, smoothed some creases off his pajama pants and went to Bobby’s door.

 

xxx

 

As expected, his knocking was answered with a gruff ‘Come in’.

Bobby was up and wearing one of his FBI’s suits. 

They exchanged greetings, Fergus stood by the foot of the bed and observed while the other man reorganized things in his duffel.

‘You’re going out today?’, Fergus asked.

‘Yeah. Dean’s going on a hunt and needed someone with a weary dependable face’.

‘Who you’re picking on the way for the part?’, Fergus teased, receiving a playful glare in response. After some moments, he resumed speaking, ‘Mary is going out, too’.

‘Uhum’, Bobby answered as if it didn’t matter.

‘Both came to talk to me separatedly, last night’.

Bobby didn’t answer.

‘They said they would be out because my mother is coming and they don’t want to be in the way’.

Bobby hesitated, still looking at his things on the bed, then turned his face to look at the other man, ‘Well, one more reason for me to go’.

There was a moment of silence and the exchange of an intense stare.

When Fergus spoke, he just said, ‘I see’.

Bobby frowned, ‘You’re bothered?’

‘I wished you would stay’.

‘For what? Think you may need a hug at some point?’

‘Now that you mention it’, Fergus looked down, embarrassed, ‘I guess I will’, his eyes wandered by the room, ‘And I wished it was you to give it to me’.

The hunter stayed in silence.

Fergus usually didn’t spoke about his feelings so seriously. It took both of them by surprise.

‘You don’t want me around for family matters’, Bobby let out a strange guttural sound, ‘Believe me’.

‘Why is that?’, Fergus faced him, ‘You don’t believe we should stick around for the ones we care about when they are in times of need?’

Bobby stared at him, obviously debating on the answer.

Fergus had been forward like never before, they were by themselves, and there was no way to ignore it.

‘I’m serious. It’s better I don’t have a part in it’, Bobby stated, ‘I can’t give you the support you want to get through this’, he closed the zipper of the bag on the bed, ‘I’ll end up messing it up’.

That was a reasoning Fergus had not expected.

And, still, it made all the sense in the world.

‘I know about your father and the things he would say to hurt you’, Fergus spoke as delicately as he could, ‘Crowley saw everything when he had your soul’.

Bobby stopped moving, ‘That was not my soul’.

‘You’re implying the differences between this universe and where you lived were not just the Winchesters?’, he stepped closer, ‘You’re saying your father was not an abusing asshole, there?’

Bobby stared ahead, ‘He was an abusing asshole whom I shoot in the melon to get out of that nightmare of a life’.

Fergus nodded, ‘They were the same, then’.

Bobby huffed, ‘What is your point?’

Fergus stepped even closer, ‘One of the things Crowley most admired in you was your resilience. When he touched your soul, he felt the beauty and the strength in it. He was shocked that someone could come over such trauma and turn into a man who would help people, who would save people without asking for anything in return, who would raise two hurting boys to be decent men – more than that: to be heroes’.

They were just inches apart, now.

Fergus watched Bobby’s profile.

He felt like the answer he was about to receive would decide everything.

Bobby resumed his fussing with the bag, ‘Like I said a million times, I’m not that man’, he picked the bag and turned to face Fergus, ‘Maybe I have a lot in commom with your Bobby, but our stories diverged. I had a child of my own, who I sent to death. I fought a war in a post-apocalyptical world. You can’t expect me to be what he was’.

‘I can’t expect you to be generous and kind? I can’t expect the same strength of character?’, the former demon was indignant, ‘I meant it when I said not raising the Winchesters robbed you from the opportunity to be the wonderful Bobby Singer I met; however, with a soul like the one I knew through Crowley, you have everything. You don’t have to turn into him, but you can be another awesome version of him’, he looked into the other’s eyes, ‘What’s your excuse to not be awesome, Apocalypse Robert?’

Bobby stared at Fergus.

The words had affected him.

He raised his free hand and put it heavily on the other’s shoulder, ‘I can’t give you what you want’.

Fergus felt tears in his eyes, ‘What do you think I want?’

Their eyes were locked.

‘I thought this was just attraction. With sex I could deal’, Bobby spoke in a whisper, ‘But emotional support is not something I have to offer’.

‘Attraction is not just about sex, Robert’, Fergus frowned painfully at the effort to not stare at the lips so close to his, ‘Crowley didn’t hope to have sex with Bobby Singer, and still he wanted to stay close to him’.

‘Because the other me was so wonderful’.

Fergus noticed the bitterness and dared to lean his head to rub a cheek on the hand at his shoulder.

The hunter closed his eyes at the touch, relishing on it.

Then he opened his eyes and moved the hand until it cradled the back of the other man’s head.

Fergus sighed at the gentle caress in his hair.

He had dreamed of Bobby giving a chance to them, and now it seemed to be happening.

The hunter pulled him to touch their foreheads.

However, nothing was said, Bobby still had the duffel in his hand and his face was scrunched.

Fergus whispered, ‘What does this mean, Robert?’

‘It means I like you, man. A lot’, Bobby breathed deeply, ‘But I carry too much already. I can’t be there for anyone else – especially someone I don’t want to disappoint’. He finished speaking and parted from the other man, ‘See you later’.

And with those stupid, stupid words, Bobby left.


	4. Turning points

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> People, my grammar checking is not working. So, sorry for any mistakes, mispellings and other misthings that may appear.

Fergus’ mission for the next hours was not to get sick again. He had been already on the edge, and that aggravating scene with Robert didn’t help.

So, he went back to his room and decided to occupy his mind choosing his clothes for the dreaded meeting.

Not that he had anything much different from jeans, shirts and t-shirts, these days, but he enjoyed dressing with elegance, he had bought some label casual clothes as soon as his finances were re-organized (thanks to Sam’s amazing hacking skills) and he was going to meet a woman who never wore casual, to start with. He better look good.

It occurred to him that maybe the long gone life of poverty was the reason why the surviving McLeods latched to every comfort money could buy. Maybe neither of them truly recovered from the trauma of being hungry and cold, of wearing rags and being looked at with repugnance. 

Fergus took a long shower, trimmed his beard and combed his hair carefully.

The rational part of his mind stated he was doing the right thing – that being human again made possible for him to understand Rowena and finally get some closure with her; another voice repeated obsessively it was all useless – that he was again making the mistake of raising expectations about his mother just to be disappointed. 

Well, no one said it would be easy.

 

xxx

 

When Sam called to inform he had just picked Rowena up in the rendezvous point and they would arrive in more or less 15 minutes, Fergus went to the main room to wait.

He stood there, not able to move, eyes glued to the door at the top of the stairs.

Deep inside he wished his mother was sincerely glad to see him alive and well, not caring he was not a king, anymore. However, it implied she felt something positive towards him, and it had never been the case. 

The demon Crowley heard from her that she chose to hate her son because he reminded her of her weakness – the man she had loved but who left her in a life of misery with a newborn while he went back to his comfortable mansion and his rich wife. 

How could Fergus, that newborn, mean anything but failure to her, ever?

The boys said Rowena wanted to bring her son back, but it didn’t mean her feelings had changed – it made more sense to think she didn’t want to loose someone who was a potential powerful ally than she had developed real affections for him.

He had done what he could for her, when she reappered and he was the King of Hell. Even when it was obvious she was scheming behind his back, even when she used him to get her revenge on the Great Coven, even when she killed his devoted and loyal butler, even when she mocked him – he always ended up forgiving, forgetting, giving another chance. 

And still she considered him a disappointment. 

Centuries ago, in Scotland, she probably expected the child she had conceived to be a turning point in her life. Her lover would surely leave everything behind to be with her, or let her use her magic to get rid of his wife, so she could be the lady of the house. 

Fergus didn’t know if Rowena had really loved his father or if she was in it for the money. Maybe she had loved him truly and couldn’t deal with the rejection when he didn’t choose her.

What he knew for sure was that Rowena had never been able to love the child that should have brought happiness but destroyed her chances of a better life.

And then she came back when he was a king.

Crowley never managed to find out if they met again by coincidence or if she knew the demon king was her son. Any way, she quickly decided loving him still was not an option, no matter what he did.

She had asked Sam to kill him. She had plotted against him with Lucifer.

Crowley had bent to almost every one of her whims, and still she despised him.

Fergus felt his eyes wet. The memories from the third trial on forward were strong. The things he felt when he was addicted to human blood lingered almost as fresh as his memories from Scotland, and in both times he had that immense hole inside him where his mother’s affection should be.

In a desperate attempt of rationalizing the situation, he guessed Rowena could be coming over simply out of plain curiosity. He had nothing to offer now, being just a human; however, it’s not everyday you can meet someone who is related to you and, still, was a stranger: he was her son, but a son she had never seen besides when he was a child, in a body that was not related to the McLeods in any way. Maybe she just wanted to check how it would work out. 

He was almost going to the kitchen to check if he hadn’t forgotten anything on the tea set (a pretty one he had made sure to treat himself with as soon as possible) when the door opened.

His heart accelerated and, for a moment, he felt like he was going to faint.

Sam entered first and kept the door open gentlemanly.

Rowena came into view.

Fergus gulped down.

The old emotions he had felt as a boy, the same ones that almost overwhelmed him when he was the addicted Demon King, came crashing.

She was beautiful.

He always wished to make her proud, but how could he make proud someone so clever, so elegant, so powerful?

She stopped and looked at him, her stare settled firmly in his figure, her face unreadable.

Then, without baiting an eye, she nodded at Sam for the graceful gesture of holding the door and followed the younger Winchester downstairs.

When they reached the ground, Sam gave them a tentative smile, ‘Well, here we are’.

The boy gave a step behind, leaving the McLeods in front of one another.

No one spoke.

Rowena was staring Fergus up and down, as if measuring him, that neutral expression in place. 

Fergus couldn’t take his eyes off her face, and he breathed as if he was hyperventilating.

‘I’ll leave you to talk’, Sam spoke and looked at Rowena.

‘Thank you, Samuel’, she said with a small smile.

Fergus flinched.

Her voice.

Her smile.

Sam stopped by his side to ask, concerned, ‘Are you ok?’

Fergus nodded nervously.

‘I’ll be in my room, then’.

They were left alone, listening to the sounds of steps diminishing.

The silence stretched after that.

Not able to sustain the heavy stare on him, Fergus cleared his throat and started walking to the kitchen, ‘I’ve made some tea’.

‘Lead the way’, Rowena answered.

‘Stay here’, he hurried to say, his steps getting faster, ‘I’ll be right back’.

Some Latin words sounded in the room and he couldn’t move.

Rowena walked until she was in front of him.

‘The boys don’t like that I use magic in the building, but they’ll understand the situation is exceptional’, she seized the opportunity of a magically frozen man and approached until they were roughly at arms’ length, ‘You can speak. Explain why you’re so jumpy around your mother’.

Fergus gulped down, ‘I’m human’.

‘So am I’.

‘But you’re powerful’.

That was not the complete truth, but what he was able to express in the moment.

‘I’m not here to hurt you, Fergus’.

That brought up tears to his eyes.

Rowena tilted her head, frowning.

‘My memories are related to my emotions, now’, he explained, ‘Your presence trigger reactions that I can’t quite explain’.

‘I guess you remember some vivid scenes of your childhood and of our times together in Hell’, there was a hint of understanding in her face, and she squinted, ‘When you look at me, you see the woman I was three hundred years ago, or the witch that appeared in your dungeon?’

‘When I look at you I see my mother’, Fergus answered, his voice trembling, ‘The one I wanted to help and make proud, and never managed’, he blinked and the tears fell, ‘Three hundred years ago I had nothing to offer you, and I thought I didn’t deserve your love because of it. And then you came back when I was a king, and still I was not enough, even if I tried’, he gulped down to summon the strength to go ahead, ‘And I tried, mother. I could do almost anything, and you hated me all the same. And now…’

He choked.

‘…you are just a common, powerless human again’, she completed the thought.

He lowered his eyes.

She said some new words in Latin.

He felt the hold of magic disappear.

Fergus sniffed and dried his tears, ‘Thank you, mother’.

Rowena gasped, a hand over her mouth in sincere shock.

Since forever, she had treated him as a nuisance. He was something to be mistreated, neglected and left behind. She told to his face – when he was a boy and it hurt, and when he was a demon and could deal with the pain of rejection – that she hated him. Even when she pretended to respect him to some extent, it was obviously because she wanted something. 

And even so, he had always tried to impress her. As a boy, he helped with the animals, he learned how to juggle, he studied magic to be a witch like her. She was not nice to him, but she was the only person he had in the world, and he was as attached as any boy completely in love with his mother could be.

Right now, she had just forced him to stop and talk to her through magic and, when she set him free, his instinctive reaction was to thank her.

Rowena looked at the man in front of her and, for the first time, her face showed she understood what it meant that he had his soul back.

He was her son again.

The shy boy who would stare adoringly at her when he thought she was so involved in her rituals she would not notice him.

The scared boy who would stare at the floor during her tantrums in hopes of not upsetting her even more.

The scarred boy who would flinch when she raised her hand, knowing she would use her magic to do the simple tasks he, the idiot, couldn’t manage.

Rowena never knew what he did with his life after she left. She never wanted to know, in fact. She supposed he hadn’t survived. Everything she found out hundreds of years later – that he had grown up, married and had a child, that he had sold his soul, that he had become a powerful demon – was a surprise.

When she noticed he had feelings, even being a demon, all she cared about was to use them to manipulate him. It worked to some extent, but he sent her away in a scene so filled with hurting and regret that she refused to rewind it in her mind until his death.

And then, it was too late.

But now they were together, again.

‘It’s useless to say I’m sorry for anything I’ve done’, she finally spoke, ‘It won’t change what happened. It won’t erase our History’.

He nodded, eyes still casted down.

‘However, I want you to know I’ve changed. Your death opened my eyes to the importance of family’.

‘Contact with the Winchesters passes it on like a disease’.

‘Yes, Fergus, it does’.

He risked a glance at her.

She was smiling.

At him.

He had a small smile on his lips, too.

They were really similar.

‘No more ‘Name is Crowley?’’, she teased, imitating him.

‘No’, he felt a bit calmer, and managed to raise his eyes to her face and keep them there, ‘I’m not correcting you’, he shrugged, ‘I am Fergus’.

‘It was time my boy was back’.

Rowena spoke and noticed the new round of tears it brought. 

She lifted her arms towards him.

‘Please, no’, he gave a step behind, ‘It’s too early for that’.

‘I understand’, she lowered her arms, squared her shoulders and spoke flippantly, in that high voice both recognized she used to hide emotions, ‘The offer of tea still stands?’

‘Yes, it stands’, Fergus felt himself relaxing enough to have some control over the situation, ‘And you can come to the kitchen with me, if you want’.

‘Yes, I want’.

 

xxx

 

They spent the whole day together.

They spoke of Fergus’ routine in the bunker, cooking, cataloguing, being friends with people. He even took his mother to his room to show where he lived.

They spoke of Rowena’s adventures after he died. Unblocking her powers and trying to blackmail Death were highlights, but there was a lot to tell of her partnership with the Winchesters, too.

Sam joined them for lunch, stayed a bit but left again, satisfied at the overall mood.

 

xxx

 

Obviously, the conversation was not smooth all the time, and they often would look at each other in silence, dealing with the memories and the emotions they brought to the surface. 

Every time he mentioned or showed how comfortable his life was now, it loomed in the room the hard things he had to go through by himself when he was a child; at every buddy moment she shared about the Winchesters, they were made aware that she was a lot closer to them than to her own son.

By unspoken agreement, they didn’t discuss those things.

They didn’t want to wake up something darker than they could deal at the moment. 

She made clear she was happy to see him alive, and both hinted at the possibility of getting along from now on, but clearing out the past was obviously off the table in that tentative new start.

 

xxx

 

Rowena was ready to leave in the beginning of the night.

Sam was going to drive her back to the rendezvous point and, while he chose and prepared a car, mother and son stood side by side in the garage.

‘Are you sure you don’t want to stay? As Moose said, there’s plenty of rooms in this place’.

‘I think it’s therapeutic that we say goodbye at this point, Fergus’.

He clenched his jaw, not answering.

She turned her head to look at him, ‘Every time we parted it was in the worst terms possible. Let’s work on what we have built today’.

He nodded, looking stubbornly ahead.

Sam started the car.

‘It’s time’, Fergus turned to Rowena, prepared to be as unobtrusive as possible, like she probably wanted him to.

To his surprise, she decided that was the moment to touch him for the first time.

She rested her hands on his cheeks – without asking – and caressed his beard, ‘I’ll be in touch. And you can call me whenever you want’.

He was wide-eyed for a moment, then nodded, ‘I will’.

‘It was nice to see you again, Fergus’, her face contorted in an emotional smile, ‘Goodbye, my boy’.

Her voice had broken.

Rowena let go of him hurriedly, walked away to the car, opened the door, entered.

Fergus hoped no one was waving at him. He was crying so much that the car and everything else were just moving blurs at that point.

Seeing her going away made his heart yell that nothing had changed.

That she didn’t want to stay, no matter what he did. 

He could be a good boy, a bad boy, a human, a demon, a king – it was all the same. 

In the end of the day he would be abandoned. 

Like Robert had done that morning.

Fergus gave some steps towards the garage doors as if it could keep his mother closer.

Realizing that was a move right out of a Drama, he breathed deeply, summoning his strength and dignity.

His heart kept trashing and hurting as if it was being ripped apart, the tears running down his face, but he knew everything was all right and those annoying symptoms were his humanity overreacting. 

The hands in fists helped him to keep the worst of the sobbing under control, and he turned to walk away.

 

Xxx

 

When Fergus reached the main room again, he stopped.

He could go to his room, throw himself in his bed and cry himself to sleep. He was worn out and had just spent a day with his witch of a mother, who had just left. He was entitled.

Or he could go to the kitchen to clean and let things as tidy as he would like them to be. No one was back, yet – what was strange, and had been very disappointing to Rowena – but soon at least Moose would be, and a nice dinner to show his gratitude would be nice. 

 

Xxx

 

He ended up doing both things.

He put the kitchen in a state of perfection and even left out of the fridge some of the ingredients he intended to use later.

However, being human put the emotions in charge, and there was no way he could stop the flow after a day of repeated attacks to his inner walls.

Fergus felt drained and in need of some rest.

When he reached his room he closed the door behind him, took off his shoes and fell asleep the moment he hugged his pillow against his chest.

 

xxx

 

He had been so exhausted – emotionally and physically – that it took him some time to wake up even with the strong shaking and the loud ‘Come on!’ from Dean.

Fergus sat on the bed dizzily, blinking to clear his mind and focus on the Winchester, ‘What is it, Squirrel? Is your angel on fire?’

‘It’s Bobby’, Dean answered, his face somber, ‘He got hurt’.


	5. Reflections

Fergus entered the room in such a hurry he had to be blocked by Sam before he reached Bobby’s bed.

‘Hey! Easy!’, the younger Winchester looked at his brother, who was just crossing the threshold, ‘Thought you said you would break the news carefully’.

‘I did’, Dean made a gesture to the squirming figure in Sam’s arms, ‘He dashed!’

‘It’s ok’, Mary spoke to her sons, then put a hand on Fergus’ back, ‘Calm down, you. Castiel is working on it’.

The man nodded and Sam let him go.

Everybody stared at the angel, who was on the other side of the bed, eyes closed and a hand hovering over Bobby’s body.

‘I don’t see blood or wounds’, Fergus whispered in the tense silence of the room, ‘Is this already Castiel’s work? Is the process in the last stages? Is Bobby going to wake up?’

People made ‘wait’ and ‘shush’ gestures.

‘Same thing’, Castiel finally said, dropping his arm and opening his eyes.

Fergus frowned at the angel in confusion, looked around and then spoke indignantly, ‘Why the constipated faces? What’s happening?’

Castiel seemed tired, ‘I cured his physical injuries...’

‘Which were?’

‘A bullet in the head and some bruises’.

Fergus paled, ‘Those are the same injuries-’

‘That killed the other Bobby’, Sam confirmed somberly.

Fergus gulped down, ‘You think Fate is repeating itself?’

‘He is not dead’, Castiel clarified, ‘Or dying’.

‘No?’

‘He is unconscious and out of my reach in a manner I can’t understand’, the angel stared at the older hunter, confused, ‘It’s like I’m prohibited to feel his mind. I can’t reach for his soul. I don’t even know what is still there’.

‘But...’, Fergus frowned, ‘Wasn’t he hit by a bullet? What kind of gun would block his soul? Or even make his mind fold in itself’

‘It was a normal gun’, Dean provided, ‘We were dealing with some rich witches and they had a security guard. Bobby should stay in the car and watch the house but he decided to go in and things got out of control’, the Winchester shook his head, ‘Should have waited a day and taken you instead’.

‘Even if I appreciate the words, Squirrel, don’t blame yourself’.

‘He managed to escape the worst of it. He reached the car. He fell there and wouldn’t answer when I talked to him’, Dean added in a hoarse voice, ‘Everything was the same’.

Sam, who had been there when the other Bobby was hit by Dick Roman, put a comforting hand on his brother’s shoulder.

‘I prayed to Cas’, Dean went on, ‘I thought if I did something different, this time, he would survive’.

‘And he did’, Castiel spoke softly, those big blue eyes trying to sooth, ‘You thought well’.

Mary hugged Dean.

Fergus gulped down his sympathy for the boys and turned to Castiel, ready to be the one with the logical approach, ‘So, you can mend the wounds, but not get him to wake’.

‘Yes’.

‘And you can’t read his mind’.

‘Yes’.

‘And you can’t reach his soul’.

‘Yes’.

‘What do you suggest we do?’

‘We do research’, the angel said, ‘Keep turns watching him and look for information on situations similar to this’, he adjusted his trench coat, ‘I have hope we can find out something on souls, or maybe karma’.

‘I’ll take the first watch’, Mary offered. Seeing Fergus make a face and open his mouth to start an argument, she added, ‘You can join me later. Sam made you dinner and you better eat before coming here whining about the Hell of a day you had’.

Surprised for the care – even if he really shouldn’t, at this point –, Fergus agreed and followed the Winchesters and Castiel out of the room. 

 

xxx

 

He was back to Bobby’s room in half an hour.

Mary was sitting in a comfortable chair, fussing in her cell phone.

There was another chair by her side – what Fergus supposed was a gentle gesture from the family to him.

He occupied the chair and made a gesture to the man on the bed, ‘Any changes?’

She shook her head, ‘How’s Dean?’

‘Pretending he is all right’, Fergus took off his shoes, put his feet on the edge of the bed and wriggled his toes, brushing them lightly against Bobby’s leg, ‘He does it very well’.

‘Is he with Sam and Castiel?’

‘Obviously. I wonder how they will manage to do research while holding each other’s hands’.

She let out a small laugh, ‘And about your day?’

‘If we are going to play twenty questions I want my turn’.

‘Sorry if I care, Fergus’, she mocked, then went serious, ‘Answer my question or I’ll call the boys and tell them you should rest instead of staying up with me’.

‘You wouldn’t dare’, he squinted at her and, seeing her face, retreated, ‘Of course you would’.

‘Yes, I would’, she left the cellphone on her lap and focused on him, ‘How was it with your mother?’

‘Confusing, challenging, emotional…’, he spoke nonchalantly, joining his hands on his lap and staring at Bobby’s face, ‘It was not the closure I wished, but it went well’.

‘Maybe closure it’s not what you need’, Mary pointed out, ‘When I came back from the dead, I was confused about my role in this world. I was confused about being a mom to two adults who could fend for themselves very well without me’, she threw him a look, ‘And then I realized I didn’t need a new beginning, because there was no end. I was here, I died, I spent time in Heaven, I was back, I kept close to them and fighting. That was what mattered’.

‘You left them for the Men of Letters. And, somehow, you left them for this Bobby, too’.

‘It took me a while to realize my mistakes’, she admitted, ‘And it’s ok to be confused about feelings. That’s basically what feelings are for’.

‘To make people confused?’, at her nod, he scoffed, ‘Says the woman who fell in love with the perfect knight in shining armor’.

Mary smiled fondly at the memory of John – her John, who she had just met again thanks to the Pearl – and they stayed in silence for some time.

Fergus resumed the conversation, ‘You think it’s a mistake to hope we could leave all behind and start over’, he took an invisible piece of lint from his shirt, ‘You’re probably right’.

‘I take it you and Rowena didn’t fight?’

‘We didn’t talk about our… relationship enough for it’, he sighed, ‘We shared news. We drank tea – thank you for the suggestion, by the way –, she gave me her number and told me I should call’, he shrugged, ‘All very nice’.

‘I suppose it’s more than you two ever had’.

‘Yes, it is. It was better than I expected, to be honest’.

‘So, what is bothering you?’

When he didn’t answer immediately, Mary took back her question, ‘You don’t have to talk about it’.

‘That’s all right. Talking helps’, he took off his feet from the bed and turned to her, ‘I looked for Bobby this morning. I needed someone… No, I needed him’, she nodded in understanding and he went on, ‘He told me he wasn’t against having sex with me’, at her surprised face, he added, ‘I didn’t ask for that. We were discussing emotional support’. 

‘And he immediately thought you expected sex?’

‘He said that was what he thought I wanted and what he could give me’.

‘You were friends’, she tilted her head, ‘Friends with benefits is not all of the equation, then’.

‘Would you say he was your friend when you were dating?’

She mused on the question, ‘He was supportive. I could trust him’, she thought a bit more, ‘But he was not really open about himself. He just talked about feelings when things turned unbearable to him, and then it felt like he had the weight of the world on his back’.

‘He made clear I shouldn’t expect emotional support from him, because he – and I quote – ‘already has too much to carry on’’.

‘Oh’, she sat straighter in her chair, ‘Not the best moment to say something like that’.

‘I went looking for him and talked about my needs. He just gave me an honest answer’, Fergus smiled sadly, ‘He is the Bobby I knew, in some way. It was expected he spoke his mind’, he sighed, ‘It’s a pity he doesn’t understand how it hurts inside when you rip to shreds the hope of something that could be good’.

Mary stared at him in silence.

‘Don’t let my attempt at poetry to awe you’, he teased, ‘Just say it, darling’.

‘How do you feel about him?’

Fergus gulped down, ‘I thought I loved him. I thought I loved him like I had loved the other Bobby’, Fergus was speaking very low, ‘It was unfair to this man, it was unfair to me, and still I couldn’t refrain from it’.

‘You wanted closure with him, then?’, Mary looked at the man in the bed, then to Fergus, again, ‘You expected to stop loving him when he told you those things? And now you’re bothered because it didn’t change how you feel?’

‘On the contrary’, Fergus answered, looking straight into her eyes, ‘What he said made me realize I don’t love him. I never have. It was just an illusion that this second chance included…’, his voice broke, ‘…my Bobby’.

His eyes settled on the man on the bed again, ‘I love the Winchesters – all of you – and I’ve learned to like Castiel, but I need something more. Rebuilding my relationship with my mother may help with this hole inside me, but it’s not enough. I thought I had found Robert again and would have the chance to give him all the affection I couldn’t before…’, his eyes wandered, ‘But it’s over’.

‘Hey’, Mary grabbed his hand, ‘Love in excess is not a problem. We’ll find a way for you to give it to someone. Maybe it is this Bobby – maybe he just needs to be run over by your feelings to wake up and stop being stupid – or maybe it will be another person. Let’s keep our hopes up, ok?’, she smiled, ‘You’re too good to be dejected like that just because an old man refused to lend you a shoulder to cry’.

Fergus chuckled, caressing Mary’s hand, ‘You have a great bedside manner, Mrs. Winchester’.

 

Xxx

 

‘So, now it’s the two of us, pet’.

Fergus spoke while he pulled the chair as close to the bed as possible and sat, taking one of Bobby’s hands in his.

‘Fate may be cruel’, he mused, ‘It brought you back to the boys, but in a different form; it brought me back, in a different form, too – in my case, an unspeakably better one than the previous’, he smiled, ‘We’re both here again, and we couldn’t be more apart’.

His smile dropped.

‘You said we would talk later’, he caressed the hand in his, ‘You know I don’t mind talking, and I surely don’t mind looking at your stupid face, even if it’s better when you answer’.

Fergus lifted the hand to kiss the knuckles, closing his eyes.

‘I’m deluding myself again’, he opened his eyes but didn’t lower the hand, ‘You are not him. We have a six-month old camaraderie going on, and nothing else. Everything I love about Bobby Singer was about our memories together’, he smiled again, ‘He shot me in our first meeting. The gall! He was in a wheelchair, I was a demon – a powerful demon! – and he shot me’.

His eyes hovered over the body, ‘You were never an invalid. You never fought the feeling of uselessness. You never gained your legs back from a demon who you couldn’t decide if you hated or enjoyed’, he sighed, ‘I thought the only difference between you and him was the Winchesters, but I was wrong’, his eyes settled on the sleeping face again, ‘I made a difference, too’.

He felt his eyes wet, ‘Oh, bollocks’, he lowered his head to dry his tears without letting go of the hand, ‘Humanity sucks. I’m not quite good at it, and you’re not helping with the attitude’.

Fergus chuckled softly to himself. It was not clear if he had made a joke, once Bobby’s attitude right now was just lying there unconscious, or if he meant the refuse to open up – better saying, the sheer impossibility of opening up.

‘Everything will be all right, darling’, Fergus said, ‘You’ll get better and we’ll fall again in our routine of light flirting. Maybe we’ll even have sex. We can find out together-Oh, who am I kidding? I’m not into casual things with any version of you’, he shook his head, Bobby’s hand still firmly in his grasp, ‘You – Him, well, any version of Bobby Singer is too special to me-Ooof!’

Fergus was unexpectedly slapped on the face.

He had to blink some times to deal with the startle, and when he was able to focus again he saw Bobby trying to sit up, eyes still close arms being thrown around madly.

Afraid the man was locked in a terrifying hallucination or having a seizure, Fergus swatted the flying hands away and managed to grasp Bobby by the shoulders, ‘Robert! Are you with me?’

Bobby’s hands found the arms holding him and he grabbed them, stopping his chaotic moves.

He opened his eyes and fixed them on the face in front of him.

The blue eyes widened.

‘Hello, love’, Fergus smiled in relief, ‘You can calm down. You’re safe’.

Bobby frowned.

‘Are you all right?’, Fergus asked, worried, ‘Something hurts? Want me to call the boys?’

The hunter blinked several times and raised a hand, slowly.

It touched Fergus’ lower lip.

The former demon flinched, realizing he was hurt.

‘You’re bleeding’, Bobby said, his head tilting, ‘And not curing yourself’, his eyes gained a familiar intrigued look, ‘What the Hell is happening here, Crowley?’


	6. Look who is back, too!

Fergus let go of the man and took one wary step behind, ‘Robert?’

‘Yeah, it’s me’, the other said, then looked around the room, ‘What is this place? You’re here, but it doesn’t feel like Hell’.

‘I’m not answering any questions until you explain exactly who you are’.

Fergus crossed his arms over his chest in what he expected was a clear message that he was not bluffing.

Obviously, he was shaken at the possibility the man in the bed was his Bobby, but it didn’t mean he had lost all ability to pretend he was unfazed until he found out if he was not just deluding himself. 

Blue eyes settled on him earnestly, ‘You’re right’.

‘Glad we agree on that’.

The man nodded and started, calmly, ‘I’m Bobby Singer. The one who lived and died in this reality’.

‘This reality in opposition to…?’

‘To the reality with no Sam and Dean and with an Apocalypse’.

‘Let’s suppose that makes any sense’, Fergus stayed in the same place and position, ‘How did you come to know about that?’

‘I was in Heaven, just existing, when another me arrived’.

‘Excuse me?’

The man frowned, ‘If I am in the right place, he used to live here. You must have met him’.

‘Maybe’, Fergus squinted, not sure if the man had stated that or was asking for confirmation, ‘Go on’.

‘He told me about the Nephilim who created a rift between realities. He told me people crossed, and that he came here to stay. He spoke of a world destroyed by the fight between Lucifer and Michael, and said all angels are dicks’, he scoffed, ‘Maybe those were not the best things to say, because alarms sounded and there were red lights and angels came crashing in babbling about two versions of the same people breaking their precious system…’

Fergus, against his better judgement, smiled.

Maybe-Bobby stopped talking and stared, confused.

‘Sorry. I enjoy listening about angel chaos’.

The man smirked, agreeing, and went on, ‘Other me suggested I came back while the angels figured out what to do. He said it made sense because this is my universe, not his’.

‘And the angels agreed?’

‘They didn’t have much of another way’, the man shrugged, ‘I asked to stay here for the rest of a natural life, and they didn’t see why not. They were that hurried to get rid of the problem’. 

‘That was good thinking on your part’, Fergus praised.

‘No sense leaving the bastards a way to catch me whenever they want’, the man’s eyes twinkled, ‘I’ve learned my lesson on deals and their loopholes the hard way’.

Fergus felt his heart beat faster.

He cleared his throat, fighting against the growing hope, ‘You are saying you chose to leave Heaven and be back to this valley of pain and sorrow also known as Humanity?’

The man grunted in a very familiar way, ‘It’s a pastel world up there. Of course I wanted a way out. Besides…’, his expression softened, ‘Other me said he was entitled to some rest. I just wonder what he went through’.

Fergus had to make the biggest of efforts to not melt right there, because thinking someone else who was basically him could need more assistance than himself was a kind of generosity that certainly made him think that creature in front of him could definitively be his Bobby.

‘I know it’s hard to believe’, the man added gently when the silence stretched, ‘Want to ask some questions to make sure? I know I’d do the same’, he smiled lightly, ‘I can tell you some things I remember, like spending unexpected time in Hell thanks to a certain King who couldn’t let go’. 

Fergus’ mouth opened slightly.

Bringing that on, and phrasing it as if it had not been a terrible offense sounded strange. Even if Bobby – accepting it was Bobby – didn’t really enjoy Heaven, he wouldn’t have forgiven Crowley – who he still thought he was facing – for kidnapping him.

‘You are trying to convince me you’re a certain charming Southern paranoid’, the Scotsman said, uncrossing his arms but keeping the suspicious face, ‘And, still, you haven’t made any questions yourself’.

‘I’ve asked what is happening and where I am’.

‘But didn’t demand the answers’.

‘You said you were not answering me until we clarified things’.

‘I expected more insistence from my… our… the original Bobby Singer’. 

‘I’m not repeating myself just because you want to’, the man glared, ‘Do I look like a talking doll to you?’

Fergus’ knees almost faltered him.

That fearless and no-nonsense attitude was very, very Robert Singer.

His Robert.

Fergus advanced and sat down on the edge of the bed, his eyes hovering over the other man, who sat more comfortably, expectant.

The clothes were different in style, the hair was different in style, and still, Fergus was ready to believe.

How could he stop himself?

The man on the bed was completely focused on him, and it was impossible to not believe that unwavering gentle stare.

Fergus bit his lip in doubt at what to say next, what opened the fresh wound, ‘Oh, bollocks’, he reached out for a kerchief in his pants’ pocket to dab at his lip and, seeing it was pretty bloody, kept it there, ‘Sorry’.

‘How did it happen?’

‘I was watching a man who had just been deeply unconscious when he swatted me out of nowhere’.

‘That part I know, idjit. I mean the fact you’re not healing’.

Fergus felt giddy like a school girl.

(Maybe-Bobby had called him an ‘idjit’!)

‘I’m not a demon, anymore’. 

Maybe-Bobby raised his brows in surprise. 

‘I died in the Universe of your doppelganger, and for some twist of Fate – maybe because I was already halfway cured, maybe because I sacrificed myself to help your boys to lock Lucifer there – I woke up in this world, with my soul restored’.

‘Does it mean…’, the man straightened his back, completely engaged in the subject, ‘You’re Fergus McLeod again?’

‘Now we’re talking!’, Fergus didn’t even try to hide his fondness, ‘You’re cleverer than Moose and Squirrel – it took them a while to figure it out’.

The man smiled, ‘You were allies with my boys?’

‘Yes, darling. And it was as dysfunctional as it sounds’.

The smile persisted.

‘What?’, Fergus was self-conscious, ‘Finding something funny?’

‘You may not be a demon, anymore, but you’ve not changed that much’, the smile gained a teasing tone, ‘Still into the pet names thing, at least’.

‘No, love, I haven’t changed that much. I’m still hopelessly devoted to some incredibly stupid people’.

The man grinned, ‘Smartass’.

Tears welled up on Fergus eyes, ‘You’re really Robert, aren’t you?’

‘Yeah, but not the other one’, the grin expanded a bit further, ‘And I can see you’re really not the demon I knew. Crowley’d never cry like a baby in front of anyone’.

‘I’m not crying like a baby’, Fergus dried his tears, ‘But Crowley would. He did, in fact. The addiction to human blood brought some crazy emotions up. Getting my whole soul back didn’t help…’

‘Wait’, Bobby lifted a hand, ‘Addicted to blood? You turned into a vampire?’

‘No. It’s a long story’.

‘Do we have time?’

‘In theory, yes. I just started my watch on you. I told Sam insistently that he should come in the morning, but you know Moose can be a mother hen and Squirrel is not easily convinced to stay put…’

Fergus noticed Bobby’s eyes shining at the mention of the Winchesters boys.

His chest tightened at how self-centered he has been, keeping the huge news only to himself.

He made a gesture to the door and started getting up from the bed, ‘I should warn them you are awake and feeling like your old grumpy self’.

A hand grabbed his forearm, ‘No way you’re calling them before updating me’.

Fergus looked at the hand on him and suddenly wished he had taken off that shirt before going to bed, ‘Darling, I understand your position and I delight in your eagerness for knowledge, but you were brought home with a bullet to the head that reminded everybody of another very similar occasion’, he raised his brows, seeing Bobby got what he meant, ‘Believe me, we don’t want Clan Winchester and an Angel of the Lord annoyed at us, and they are all sickly guilty and worried, as usual’.

‘Castiel is here?’, now Bobby definitively perked up.

‘He was the one to cure your head injury’, Fergus smiled, ‘You won’t believe how close to the boys he got’.

‘Other me was not friendly to the angels, and I’m not a fan myself – wipe off that smirk, I’m not saying I preferred demons – but Castiel was different. He had a dose of stupid, but he tried hard’.

Bobby seemed to be contemplating the situation, and Fergus respected his silence.

It was a lot to take in.

Besides, the hand was still on his arm and he was relishing in the novelty.

Suddenly, Bobby spoke, ‘Hope you don’t mind’.

‘Pardon?’

‘Stayed by myself for a long time’, the hunter frowned painfully, fingers pressing a bit tighter on the clothed arm, ‘In Heaven nothing is real’, he chuckled awkwardly, ‘I missed this’. 

‘That’s all right, love’, Fergus sat on the bed again, careful to not dislodge the hand and give any sign that he was uncomfortable, ‘I was not quite fond of touching when I was a demon, but things changed’, he smiled coyly, ‘You can even hold my hand when we call the Winchesters plus Feathers’.

Bobby’s eyes lingered on his own hand, and Fergus froze.

Was he pondering on taking his hand?

Suddenly, the hunter frowned, ‘You said ‘Clan’ Winchester, didn’t you?’

‘Yes. There are three of them, now’.

‘What?’, he tensed, ‘Don’t tell me John is alive!’

‘No’, Fergus cleared his throat, not sure of the reaction he would get, ‘Mary’.

Bobby opened his mouth in shock, ‘The boys’ mom?’

‘The same’, Fergus decided to go for broke, ‘And you dated her for some months. I mean, the other you’.

‘Me and Mary Winchester?’, at Fergus’ nod, he made the most appalled face ever, ‘Poor boys’.

‘Creepy, isn’t it?’

‘Yeah’, he scoffed, ‘Other me didn’t mention it’.

‘It’s been over for some time’, Fergus shrugged as if he didn’t care much for the subject, ‘Maybe Apocalyptic Bobby didn’t think it was that relevant’.

‘The bastard’.

‘You just cursed yourself, darling’.

Bobby squinted.

Fergus winked.

The hunter rolled his eyes and went back to contemplate his hand on the cloth, ‘To be fair, he didn’t have time to say much, with the winged nightmares running to interrupt us as if we were to cause a fire’.

‘Maybe you two were too hot for Heaven’.

Fergus spoke and immediately regretted it.

Flirting was all that Crowley did, and he didn’t want Robert to think of him as something like ‘Crowley without powers’. Fergus McLeod was a lot more than that.

Even if he had the same lack of verbal demureness.

Bobby stared at him.

So seriously that he squirmed.

‘What?’, Fergus asked, embarrassed, ‘Something on my face?’

‘In fact, yeah’.

The hand on his arm let go and he almost whined in disappointment.

However, it reached out to touch the side of his face gingerly, ‘I’m not used to the beard, yet. Makes you… I don’t know. Different’.

Fergus blinked some times, surprised at the intimate gesture, ‘I got it after you died’.

Bobby just nodded, fingertips moving delicately.

‘I wanted to feel kinglier’, Fergus in a whisper.

‘Through a beard?’

‘The wisest man I’ve ever met had one’.

Fergus closed his mouth. 

He needed to stop talking.

Crowley’s feelings towards Robert were always confused, but one thing was clear: he saw the hunter as a model of dignity, strength and wisdom. 

When he first adopted the beard he thought what his wish was to be more similar to that model, but as soon as the third trial was over and emotions came to surface the King of Hell realized that the new appearance was nothing but a coping mechanism to deal with Robert’s death and the suffocating missing the demon felt since his soul had gone to Heaven. 

Seeing the painful expression on the face in front of him made Bobby recoil his hand, ‘Sorry again. Too much time with imaginary friends. I may have lost some social skills’, he gave that embarrassed smile that made Fergus’ chest get warm, ‘Not that I had a lot, before’.

Fergus sighed, ‘That’s all right, Robert…’

He was going to say more, but he was suddenly taken by the notion that Bobby Singer was comfortable around him but found his appearance strange because Crowley may have been one of those ‘imaginary friends’, and the hunter had been used to another image of him. 

Was it too daring to hope that Robert had missed him, too? That he had found Heaven ‘pastel’ because Crowley was not there? That he had imagined them spending nice time together to deal with the lack of spunk?

But a hunter would not summon a demon, even an imaginary one, to spend time, would he? He never did it on Earth – why would he do it in Heaven, where he could have anyone else?

Anyone he ever really loved?

Fergus felt his throat tighten.

‘Hey’, Bobby called him out, ‘You’re sure it’s ok?’

He nodded and gulped down, hoping his voice didn’t betray him, ‘I’m human, now, and I’ve been living among family – the Winchesters accepted me gracefully. It took me a while to get used to it, but friendly contact is welcomed, now’.

‘Good to know’, Bobby smiled and patted Fergus’ hand, ‘Will you tell me what I’ve been missing before the boys come barging in or what?’

Butterflies filled the shorter man’s chest at the touch of skin to skin, even if quick like that, ‘Will you believe me?’

‘It can’t be much more insane than the bullshit material I had for you’.

‘Oh, darling’, Fergus grinned, adjusting himself on the bed for what promised to be a long but entertaining conversation, ‘You have no idea’.

 

xxx

 

They ended up deciding not to call anyone else, for the time being, and Fergus had hours and hours to recount the facts he considered more relevant for Bobby to understand their current situation. 

Not surprisingly, the hunter was so fascinated by the ‘Men of Letters’ concept that he demanded a tour in the bunker, and Fergus was more than glad to be his guide.

 

xxx

They left the room and, initially, Bobby was a bit uncomfortable.

The clothes and lack of caps in Apocalyptical Bobby wardrobe felt strange to him.

However, soon he forgot everything about it.

He couldn’t be happier with everything he saw.

The bunker had everything he loved: books, archives, videos and audios on lore, a large collection of artifacts, rooms and rooms of useful and rare ingredients and a garage filled with old cars.

When Fergus mentioned they seemed to be in ‘Singer’s paradise’, Bobby opened the largest grin he had ever seen in his face, and the irony that he couldn’t be happier to have left the ‘real’ Heaven for this wasn’t lost on them.

 

xxx

 

When the smell of coffee reached the corridors, they went to the kitchen, both agreeing it was time to face the music.

(They passed the war room and it took some convincing to drag Bobby from the books scattered on the map table.

The man was a knowledgeaholic!)

As expected, people were reunited in the kitchen, glooming and quiet around the table, drinking coffee.

(Even Castiel had indulged into a hot beverage, what was a clear sign of distress.)

Fergus was suddenly grateful that everybody was there. It meant poor Robert would have to go through his big revelation just once.

The former demon stopped at the kitchen threshold and turned his head to the man who had been walking by his side until then, and now was half hiding behind him.

Fergus frowned, once it was useless for a man Robert’s size to try to hide behind him.

The nervous glance he received was enough for him to tame his impulse to comment.

He offered a reassuring smile.

It worked: Bobby squared his shoulders and nodded.

Satisfied, Fergus turned again to the room and greeted, loud and clear, ‘Hello, people’.

Four pair of eyes went to him immediately.

The moment they saw he was not alone, the Winchesters and Castiel got up in tandem to take a better look, while Mary stayed in her seat with an intrigued face.

Dean was the first to get over the surprise and approach, ‘Hey, Bobby’.

The man didn’t move, just his bewildered eyes travelling from Dean to Sam and back.

Fergus cleared his throat, gave a step aside and put a hand on Bobby’s lower back, moving subtly to force him to enter the room.

Dean frowned and looked at Sam in a predictable need of sharing the confusion with his brother. Satisfied that Sam seemed as confused as himself, he reached out and clapped the older hunter’s shoulder, ‘We were worried, man. How do you feel?’

There was no answer.

Bobby was too taken by emotion to speak.

His eyes, now fixed on Dean, were quickly filling with tears.

Dean frowned in worry and looked at Fergus, realizing something was amiss, ‘What…?’

‘He is our Bobby’, Fergus decided to clarify, once the man himself seemed not able to do it, ‘Two of them were too much for Heaven and every part interested agreed he should be the one to get back’.

There was a moment of complete silence in the room.

Sam broke it with a strangled gasp.

No one knew how it happened, but in the next moment both brothers were hugging their surrogate father with all their might and crying like children.

‘Damn, how I missed you two’, was the only thing said, and everybody knew that, even if the boys couldn’t talk right now, the feeling was mutual.

Mary got up from the table to stand besides Fergus.

There was no need for either of them to say anything. They exchanged a glance and both knew what the other was thinking.

Apocalyptic Bobby would never display such a deep loving feeling. 

When the group finally managed to separate a bit, Bobby dried his tears and looked up at a figure who had been eagerly watching, ‘And you, Castiel. Come here’.

The angel smiled and approached to hug Bobby like the hunter had taught him to do, many years ago: tight and sincere.

‘You were deeply missed, too’, Castiel said when they parted, ‘My brothers may have taken one of the best actions they ever did, sending you back’.

Bobby reddened in embarrassment, ‘Thank you’.

Fergus cleared his throat, ‘Let’s not ignore the lady’, he indicated the woman besides him, ‘This is Mary Winchester’.

Bobby stepped out of the circle of brothers and angel that had surrounded him and stood in front of her, visibly wishing he had a cap to hide his eyes, ‘It’s an honor to meet you, madam’.

‘I told him everything’, Fergus said with a malicious smile, ‘Every sordid detail’.

Bobby widened his eyes and shook his head, ‘I have no idea what he is-’ 

Mary rolled her eyes, ‘I know. He is a pest’, she extended a hand, ‘It’s a pleasure to meet you, too, Bobby Singer. I’ve heard from the boys you were awesome’.

He went a deeper shade of red but bravely took her hand to shake it, ‘I did what I could to help. They were great kids, anyway’.

Mary grinned at the man in front of her.

The man lowered his eyes shyly.

Fergus cleared his throat and pointed at Sam and Dean, ‘Look at them, grinning like two idiots. I wonder if you’ll feel the same the moment Mommy Dearest and Better Surrogate Father Ever start sharing stories on your childhood’. 

‘Dude, who cares?’, Dean answered, clearing some of his own tears, ‘We have Bobby back!’


	7. Getting acquainted

That morning was hectic.

Breakfast turned into a joyous affair, with everybody eager to hear Bobby about his time in Heaven, and then Sam and Dean telling him, with Castiel and Mary’s help, some of their last adventures. 

Fergus chimed in every time he felt Crowley’s point of view would be of interest, but he mostly watched, delighting in the way Bobby humored everyone pretending he hadn’t already heard all of that from the former demon. 

Being the one who had broken the major part of those news to the hunter made Fergus feel special.

So, every time Bobby shared a subtle look with him over the general chatting, he couldn’t help but smiling like an idiot.

 

xxx

 

Of course, as much as everybody seemed convinced that the newcomer was their Bobby, the boys did all the tests they could.

It included asking questions just the Bobby Singer who raised them could answer, to his utter chagrin (once a certain visit to a Vietnamese joint for a pedicure was mentioned) and utter relief (once his preference for Dean was not mentioned).

The older hunter understood the paranoia completely and agreed to everything that came into his way.

He proposed a toast to the beer tainted with holy water before drinking it.

He waited patiently for Sam to finish a murmured exorcism.

He just pursed his lips in amusement at Dean exclaiming ‘Christo!’ when he pretended to spill his own beer.

He gracefully changed cutlery as many times as it was required, during the meal, and held everything that was given to him afterwards, so people could make sure he touched every metal and blessed object that could hurt shapeshifters, sirens, demons and other less known creatures.

Obviously, Fergus was there all along, watching gleefully and making his usual teasing remarks (‘A siren? Look at that, Robert! They think you could be the utmost desire of someone in this room’).

Bobby’s demeanor changed suddenly when Sam decided that the opportunity was too good to pass when he showed their surrogate father a ridiculous-looking plastic Water Gun.

It had been bought as a gag gift from Fergus to the other Bobby, and the former demon was surprised to see it on the Moose’s hands, and even more surprised when the boy simply pointed it at Bobby’s face and pulled the trigger.

Bobby was just slightly annoyed – the thing didn’t have enough force to hit hard or even to wet him much – and forgave the younger Winchester for the move; however, Fergus was unsuccessfully trying to hide a fit of laughing, and he scowled, ‘Do you want to part in the fun?’

‘No need to, love’, Fergus managed to speak when he calmed down a bit, ‘I’m happy to watch from here’.

‘Afraid to wet your clothes, Princess?’

That teasing tone made Fergus sober and straighten his back, interested, ‘I’m never afraid to play, darling’.

Obvious to any tension going on, Dean took the plastic gun from Sam and directed it at Fergus, ‘I like the idea. It’s been some time I don’t do you’.

‘Excuse me, Squirrel, but you’re not my type’.

‘What?’, Dean frowned in confusion.

Mary stepped in, ‘He would prefer Bobby to be the one to do him’.

Sam tilted his head, a look of realization on his face.

Castile tilted his head, too, and seemed deeply intrigued at whatever occurred to him.

Dean opened his mouth to ask something along the lines of ‘what the Hell?’, but Bobby put a hand on the gun, forcing it down, ‘No more victims, boy’.

‘It’s not supposed to hurt him’, Dean spoke, ‘We have a problem if it does’.

Fergus opened his arms, exposing the front of his shirt, ‘Do you want to have the honors, Robert?’

Bobby looked at Fergus.

The hunter was very serious, staring into the other man’s eyes.

Fergus realized Bobby was assessing his feelings on the matter, and he felt exposed, his challenging façade faltering.

Bobby turned to Dean, ‘You said he has been here for half a year. I know I’d get offended if you were still testing me after so long – and don’t you dare say it’s different. If you accepted the man under your roof, you better respect him’, his eyes went to Fergus again, ‘Besides, what’s the point if he wants it?’

The last part was said with a small teasing smile, and Fergus couldn’t do anything but answer with what he knew must be the most foolish adoring face he had ever sported.

 

xxx

 

When the boys invited Bobby to make a round on the bunker to show him everything, Fergus declared his intention to stay away from the commotion for a while and offered to start a special lunch.

Mary said she would stay with him in the kitchen.

Castiel hesitated, looking from a group to the other.

Dean noticed his uncertainty, ‘What’s in your mind, buddy?’

‘I guess you want some time by yourselves, giving your history together’, the angel stated to Sam, Dean and Bobby, ‘I may stay here’.

‘Don’t be an idjit’, Bobby scowled, ‘We have a lot of history, too’.

‘You’re coming’, Dean smiled sweetly to the angel.

Castiel grinned happily and followed them out of the room.

When they disappeared, Crowley turned and opened the subzero. He had fish somewhere and, knowing Bobby, he would never ask for it, but would appreciate a dish chosen specially for him. 

‘You could have gone, too, you know’, Mary commented.

‘And leave you alone with my casseroles? No way’, he found the fish, closed the subzero and started organizing things on the sink, ‘Besides, they’ll probably cry more manly tears while promising to hunt together for eternity. It’s not my style’. 

There was silence in the kitchen, just broken by Fergus’ expert hands selecting the packs and closing the subzero.

‘So?’, Mary asked suddenly.

‘I am human, now’, he answered, eyes intent on picking vegetables, ‘There’s a limit to the saccharose I’m allowed to witness’.

‘That’s not what I’m asking’.

‘You’ll have to be more specific, darling’.

‘Last night you told me you had loved the Bobby Singer from our reality. That man is back’, she spoke firmly, ‘You’re sure you don’t know what I’m asking?’

Of course, she wanted to speculate on his feelings.

And of course, being Mary Winchester, she wouldn’t beat around the bush.

Well, he didn’t have to make things easy.

‘I had nothing to do with it. Even if I had my demonic powers, you can rest assured that they never comprised trading souls with Heaven’, he scrunched his nose, starting to cut some tomatoes, ‘On the contrary – Heaven managed to take that same soul from me, once’.

The woman didn’t answer.

The only sound was the chop-chop of the knife.

‘I can feel you giving me The Eye’, Fergus commented.

When she still didn’t speak, he threw a glance at her.

Mary just glared, arms crossed on her chest.

‘Wrong answer?’, he smirked, ‘Told you I had no idea what you want to know’.

‘After hours of conversation by yourselves and after seeing him around the boys and Castiel again’, she uncrossed the arms, ‘Do you still feel the same?’

Fergus stopped moving.

Both knew the implications of her question. It was not just about his feelings towards Bobby, but about what Fergus expected, now that the man was back.

He placed the knife on the table and turned to her with a pained expression in his face, ‘Have you seen him?’

She tilted her head, ‘I did, but surely not like you did’.

He nodded, decided to explain himself, ‘All I see is kindness. Honesty. Strength. Wisdom. Intelligence. I can’t see his soul as I could when I was a demon, but it’s all there in plain sight for me’, he breathed deeply, ‘He is the exact same man for whom I fell when I didn’t have enough emotions to recognize what I was going through’.

She smiled, ‘And you fell hard even then’.

‘Since the first time I saw him’.

‘Really? The demon Crowley fell in love at first sight with a redneck hunter?’

‘I always had a thing for big gruff bears; I had the thrills for clever men, too…’

‘And Bobby was both’.

‘Not even mentioning the morality without prejudice. The self-righteousness without stupid judgements. The useful knowledge. And have you seen those eyes? And those hands? And those shoulders?’, Fergus sighed, ‘He is perfect’.

‘I get it’, Mary was smiling at him, ‘And what are you going to do?’

‘I have no idea’, Fergus picked the knife and resumed the chopping, ‘Stay around, I suppose. See how close he lets me get’.

‘I wonder how similar they are’, she mused, ‘The other him said he could have sex with you’.

‘He could, but I couldn’t’.

Fergus spoke and blushed.

When he looked at Mary, her mouth was hanging open, and he felt the urge to elaborate.

‘I didn’t want to have sex with a version of Bobby that I didn’t love. I was attracted to him, surely, but he made clear he was not emotionally available, and that was part of what I most loved in my Bobby – the investment in everything he did. My Bobby Singer didn’t do things in halves and certainly he didn’t hold back’, Fergus stopped chopping to select some bowls and closed a cupboard door with more force than necessary, ‘And now he’s back and I don’t know what to do with myself. I already feel like I’m bursting with happiness just watching him being handsome and perfect’, he scowled at her, ‘Don’t judge’.

‘I’m not’, Mary patted his arm, ‘I see your point, in fact. He is cute with the shyness and the ‘madam’ thing’. 

‘He called me Princess’, he grinned, ‘Didn’t think I would hear it again’. 

‘That’s it’, she pulled a chair, ‘That’s a story I want to hear’.

 

Xxx

 

Lunch was a much quieter affair.

Everybody was starving, and Fergus’ cooking received many praises: there was Japanese food and salad, what made Bobby and Sam thank him with huge grins; and he made sure to have fries, too, what made Dean thank him with a full mouth.

Bobby fought a yawn when Sam started cleaning up, and Mary immediately entered mother-mode, ‘You two’, she pointed at the older hunter and the former demon, ‘You didn’t sleep, last night, did you?’

‘That’s a very intimate question’, Fergus raised a brow.

‘We spent it chatting’, Bobby clarified, ‘Why?’

‘You are obviously tired’, Castiel provided, ‘You should rest’.

‘Are you bragging, angel?’, Fergus squinted, ‘Saying us old men need our beauty sleep?’

‘Well, he is not wrong’, Bobby stifled a new yawn, ‘We are old’.

‘He is older!’

‘We’re old in humans’ parameters, idjit’.

‘Stop the bullshit’, Dean chimed in before the argument went on, ‘We’ll take care of the dishes. You go hit the sack’.

‘Take Bobby to his door, Fergus’, Mary ordered.

‘Make sure he’ll rest, and you too’, Sam added gently, ‘We want both of you as sharp as you can be’.

The bearded men exchanged a look and nodded, muttering something about living with a bunch of mother hens.

 

Xxx

 

They walked side by side, with no hurry at all, chatting – about an artifact Bobby wanted to see in more detail, a case filled with archives on Navajo lore Fergus thought would be of the hunter interest, the herbs Bobby recognized in the fish, the joys of living among great people who had a sense of family that bordered on unhealthy codependency.

When they reached Bobby’s door they stopped and stared at each other in silence.

Fergus wriggled his hands in sudden nerves.

It felt like he was escorting Bobby home after a date.

‘Well’, Fergus cleared his throat, ‘Go get some rest’.

‘You too’.

‘Yes, I will’, Fergus smiled, ‘I’ve learned not to contradict direct orders’.

Bobby nodded, very serious.

They didn’t move to separate.

Their eyes were still on each others’.

‘Hey’, Bobby gulped down, ‘Wanna tell you something’.

Fergus nodded, trying to show a calmness he didn’t feel, ‘Say it, darling’.

‘I’d like you to know where I stand, in this’.

Fergus blinked in confusion, light panic rising in his chest, ‘I don’t follow’.

‘We – me and you – We’re both back to life, and we came different from what we were, but still kind of the same’, his eyes were soft, ‘It’s like we know each other even if we shouldn’t, with so much time and the whole dying thing between us’.

Fergus just nodded in agreement, still not sure of where it was going. 

‘I guess you were used to the other me, and now it’s just old me, here’, Bobby gave that small embarrassed smile, ‘What I’m trying to say is that I want you to know I’m here for you, and I trust you’ll do the same for me’. 

‘Oh, Robert…’

Fergus wanted to say a lot of things, but his voice faltered and he couldn’t go on.

Bobby shuffled his feet anxiously at the other’s strong reaction, and he resumed speaking, ‘I understand it if you need some time to get used to me’, he gestured down at himself, ‘Other me sure got along well with you, with the fancy clothes and all, but…’

‘No’, Fergus interrupted the tirade, hands on Bobby’s shoulders, eyes deeply on his, ‘We got along, but not that well’, his hands relaxed a bit and he slid them down slowly, caressing the other’s arms, ‘He was not you’.

‘You say it as if getting me back was a win’.

‘It’s the best thing that could ever have happened’, Fergus took a step closer, keeping the hands on the other’s forearms and standing in the limit of personal space, ‘You’re here. You trust me. I never thought I’d hear those things from anyone, and now…’, his eyes travelled by the taller man’s face and he whispered, ‘You have no idea what it means to me’.

‘Dude… Come here’, Bobby pulled Fergus into his arms for a hug, ‘I get it. Believe me’.

Fergus hugged back, maybe a bit tighter than decency indicated, eyes shut and hands grabbing the shirt of the other man, ‘You’re awesome, Robert Singer’.

Bobby chuckled, ‘If you say so’.

‘You better not contradict me. May not be a demon, anymore, but I can be quite nasty when provoked’.

‘I’ll keep that in mind’, Bobby patted the other’s back, ‘Now let go. I’m not disappearing on you’.

‘Don’t joke about it’, Fergus’ hands relaxed a bit and he parted slowly, ‘I’ve lost you twice – as a human and as a soul’.

‘Sorry’, Bobby said sincerely, ‘Didn’t mean to bring it on’.

Fergus nodded.

‘But now it’s you and me’, the hunter spoke firmly, ‘You hear me?’

‘Yes’, Fergus grinned, ‘I hear you, love’.


	8. Bless, curse and delight

There was no way Fergus could foresee any of what living with Robert Singer would do to him, given his feelings for the man and his changed status from demon to human.

He steeled himself for a bumpy road, filled with awkwardness and misunderstandings. 

Even with that talking of being there for each other, he knew hunters tend to band together; with the amount of history Bobby had with Sam and Dean (and the whole surrogate father thing), Fergus had resigned himself for a day to day fight to keep alive some hope that Bobby would have a small spot for him in his routine and not leave him aside for the sake of the Winchesters. 

Well, there was no way he could foresee any of what would happen.

 

Xxx

 

In a matter of days Bobby and Fergus had turned into The Research Wonders (if you asked Sam) or Crazy Cataloguing Duo (if you asked Dean), thanks to their incredible ability to navigate the bunker’s rooms and find anything – from old books and as-old-as-time documents to older-than-time-itself artifacts.

No question stayed without answer for more than some hours, and the way they worked together, often having the same ideas and moving in tandem without having to explain to the other what had to be done, was utterly impressive. 

It turned to be a common occurrence calling Castiel for confirmation on some data and, after a quick string of questions that sounded bizarre to everyone else, Bobby and Fergus started building hypothesis and, suddenly, they were the ones with all the answers (or the ones who knew exactly where to find the needed answers). 

Mary stated, to everyone’s agreement, that monsters all around the world were lucky: if Fergus still had any demonic powers and Bobby could resume his old lifestyle as official center of information for hunters, the things that bump in the night would have no chance against their joined forces.

 

xxx

 

Bobby still read whatever fell into his hands, being the scholar everybody could rely on. However, fascinated by the structure of the bunker, he made sure to keep every material he used in order, putting it back in place as soon as he was finished with it, and not returning to his packrat status from before. 

Soon people realized Bobby would support Fergus in any initiative to keep the bunker as neat as possible, and learned they better go along – demonic powers or not, official source of info or not, those two could not be defeated when acting together.

 

xxx 

 

Bobby still was good company for a beer or even some scotch. However, the other Bobby had not been an alcoholic – on the contrary, he was even fit, being forced to live like a soldier and all –, and the healthier body made the old hunter naturally lower his drinking consumption and seek ways to preserve what he had been gifted.

Of course, he still enjoyed the occasional drink, but not even close to what he was used to before his death.

More often than not, he could be seen sharing some scotch with Fergus – in the literal sense, dividing a certain reasonable amount of liquor between them instead of drinking whole bottles. 

 

Xxx

 

Besides that, Bobby would watch out for everybody to have regular breaks from work in order to eat something and stretch their muscles. 

(Sam could not be happier at finally having someone who supported his healthy lifestyle.)

Bobby was the one to press Fergus to get up from his chair during some of the research binges, because the man would enter into obsessive mode and forget completely he had a body with needs.

The hunter would make invitations, send warnings and some heavy pats on the back that usually left little space for a negative. However, the usual methods were not always enough, and Bobby would unceremoniously remove from the former demon’s hands whatever had him so engrossed.

In the few times it didn’t work immediately, he didn’t have any qualms on physically dragging Fergus from the chair.

(It generated protests, but the hunter couldn’t care less. He had raised two kids. He knew how tantrums went.) 

 

xxx

 

After that hug in the first day, Fergus didn’t know exactly what to expect from Bobby in terms of physical contact. He knew the hunter was a softie with a soul made essentially of caring and gentleness, but he was not sure it meant a broad range of touches would be permitted.

It was not a matter to worry about from the Winchesters and Castiel’s point of view: Sam, Dean and Mary didn’t make it a habit of holding hands and hugging, and the angel preferred to observe and just engage in the behavior if he was explicitly invited.

But to Fergus it was a given that he needed more than that. He had been affectionate towards Bobby since forever, and hoped what had been limited to words in their first time around now could expand to gestures, if he was careful and lucky enough.

 

Xxx

 

Fergus didn’t have to be so cautious.

Bobby reached out for everybody for the familiar friendly pats.

However, maybe taking to heart Fergus’ declared attitude towards touching from their first conversation in the bunker, Bobby didn’t even think twice before initiating contact.

The other Bobby had patted Fergus’ shoulder in many occasions. He had even rested a hand on his. In a moment of deeply emotional confession, he touched their foreheads. His gestures had always been in the limit between friendly and intimate, and Fergus often got confused, not knowing if the man was trying to show some support or giving the green lights for flirting.

This Bobby made clear he intended to take care of him.

He would put a hand on the small of Fergus’ back to sign they were to go somewhere together.

He would always stand besides Fergus in any room where the group was gathered, their arms brushing against each other often, so close they stood.

He would rest his arm on the back of Fergus’ chair when they were sitting side by side, as if extending his area of protection to the former demon.

He would call Fergus to read something over his shoulder or would himself lean over Fergus’ shoulder to read, as if sharing the same space with their mouths quite close to their ears was not an issue.

He would keep unwavering eye contact when one of them was speaking.

He would often look at Fergus when neither of them was speaking, in an obvious move to assess his emotional state on whatever was going on.

It took the former demon by surprise and, in the first times it happened, he thought it was just the odd occurrence. No way Bobby would keep taking care of him or even pay such attention for long. Yes, they worked well together and had a lot of things in common, but Fergus had never experienced that level of care from anyone. Sooner or later, Bobby would do what everybody did: pick one of Fergus’ uncountable flaws and mistakes and feel entitled to keep his distance. 

But the days went by and things didn’t change.

Fergus made mistakes, exaggerated in the harsh comments, was eventually disrespectful and rude when he was in a bad day, and it always ended up the same way: Bobby would tell him to stop being an ‘idjit’; he would accept he had been wrong; he would apologize and things got back to normal.

Fergus was forced to accept that Bobby being there for him was, definitively, not the odd occurrence, but how things would be from then on.

As a result, his feelings towards the hunter escalated, and he couldn’t stop himself from staring like an idiot every time they were in the same room (what was pretty much all the time).

In his defense, Fergus could say that experiencing such care from someone whom he had in so high regards was unbalancing, to put it mildly.

(‘High regards’ being an elegant way to say Fergus had a desperate crush on Bobby, complete with drooling over every word the man said, staring stupidly just for the pleasure of watching him and having late night sessions of touching himself remembering what he had heard from the man and seen him do in the day.)

 

Xxx

 

Of all the occurrences in which Bobby touched Fergus, people had a favorite move.

Dean named it ‘The Puppy’.

It happened for the first time in front of the people in the bunker when they called Castiel for some questions in a day when the angel was in one of his bad moods. 

Well, in fact no one was in a great mood. Dean had got injured in what seemed a simple hunt and Fergus was the one in the bunker when the boy managed to reach it, what had been emotionally traumatic to all the involved.

Dean had called Fergus from the Impala, already in the garage, ordering him to ‘get his ass’ there, and Fergus ran to help, thinking it was some simple matter.

Arriving there he found the Winchester covered in blood and with a gash on his stomach that he didn’t want anyone to see before was at least a bit mended, for reasons.

In the end it was not really serious (the blood covering Dean was not his), but until Fergus found that out, he was already yelling with tears in his eyes, ‘Don’t you dare die on my watch! What will I say to the angel? What will I say to your mother? And Moose? And Bobby?! You’re lucky so many people love you, or I would leave you here to die, moron!’

So, when they called Castiel, Dean was still recovering from his injury (that he didn’t want healed magically because reasons – something related to self-sacrificing and deserving punishment or whatever that Fergus felt a headache start at the notion) and Cas was worried sick about the boy mental and emotional state.

The angel’s clipped answers woke up old grudges from a time when everybody was suspicious of the demon’s actions. Fergus’ temper soon manifested itself through some jibes snarkier than their usual, what annoyed Castiel even more.

Sensing the conflict (‘Do you think you’re the only one here who worries, Feathers? Or that you can throw stones, as if you had been the most loyal to this family?’) and growing impatient at the uselessness of it, Bobby told Fergus to stop.

He did it once, twice; he did it again, reasoning that everybody was stressed and that venting out like that didn’t help, and he was ignored.

To Fergus’ shock, Bobby grabbed him by the back of his shirt, close to the collar, pulling him closer.

He squeaked in surprise, ‘Let me go, Robert!’

(He guessed the flailing arms were an amusing image.)

‘You let the Angel of the Lord go, idjit’.

‘Or what? It’s not like he is smiting me!’

‘No, but he can send you next town just to get rid of your yapping’, Bobby started dragging Fergus towards one of the corridors, ‘And no one would judge’.

‘That’s unfair! He was the one who-You! Wipe off that smile!’, the Scot scowled at the angel, decided to show some authority even in his current state of powerless rag doll.

‘I can’t’, Castiel answered sincerely, ‘I’m imagining you in the neighbor town’.

 

xxx

 

The episode would be, obviously, told to the Winchesters by the angel.

Fergus tried to keep a low profile in front of the others for the rest of the crisis. He knew it was a matter of time for the subject to be brought on, but he hoped to postpone it as much as possible.

It was ridiculous that he calmed down so easily at Bobby’s touch, and even more ridiculous that, even if he knew how undignified it was to be grabbed like that, he couldn’t bring himself to feel offended or truly bothered.

It worked every time. 

If someone had the right to get him like that, it was Bobby.

Fergus just had to avoid it to happen again when there was anyone else around.

It took almost one week for his hopes on the matter to be dashed.

A new crisis arouse, as expected, and he saw himself raising his voice a bit and, before things went all off control, Bobby grabbed the back of his shirt in that exact spot.

It was a subtle gesture, made more as a warning than anything else. Bobby would obviously try not to expose Fergus in front of the rest of the group, and the former demon relaxed, aware of his own overreaction and grateful that Bobby was trying to preserve his image.

However, they had a very observant Moose in their group, and suddenly Sam yelled, ‘Hey! Bobby is doing The Puppy!’ 

And that was how they found out Castiel had told the story to the Winchesters and Dean had said, ‘You mean Bobby calmed the guy down grabbing him like mama dog grabs a puppy that is too much?’

From that day on, when things got out of hand and Fergus was acting unreasonable, Sam would turn to the older hunter and say ‘Bobby! Do The Puppy!’

Bobby would generally roll his eyes and look at Fergus, raising a brow in warning, and the former demon would immediately raise his hands in surrender, no Puppy being necessary.

Yes, life in family had its indignities; but it worked, and Fergus would not rather be anywhere else. 

 

xxx

 

Bobby asked Fergus about the training he had going on with the other Bobby, saying he was interested in keeping in relatively good shape and that he needed to learn again how to fight, after so much time dead and being now back in a different body.

The hunter was a bit surprised that the other him had been practicing wrestling with Fergus. Boxing he could see himself in, but wrestling? 

Convinced it was useful, he agreed to follow Fergus’ instructions on the routine (stretching, warming up, throwing punches, free style with ground fight), and soon he was enjoying it.

Being a quick learn and having now a healthy body, Bobby understood the techniques, studied them and started beating Fergus in any modality he proposed. 

The sessions were delightful: they had fun, they got in shape, they learned more about each other’s reactions and defense strategies, they developed some shared body language for emergencies that required non-verbal cues.

To Fergus, it would be perfect if he didn’t find himself in some dire situations.

First, he had to deal with Bobby in full caring mode, offering a hand for Fergus to get up from the ground; palming Fergus’ muscles and asking if he was in pain when he grimaced; asking for Fergus to put his hands on him to correct any moves he could be doing wrong; putting his hands on Fergus to correct any moves the man could be doing wrong.

The former demon didn’t mind the easy intimacy at all. However, the more he relaxed around Bobby, the more difficult it was for him to keep some discretion about his complete adoration.

(He often had to bit his tongue to not keep praising everything the man did.)

But the worst – or better, it was not easy to decide – was the arousal.

Fergus had gone through something quite similar with the other Bobby: he enjoyed so much their ground fights that he often got hard while they were at it. The man had chosen not to acknowledge it, and usually they managed to end their sessions without any incidents. 

When Fergus noticed his predicament with this Bobby was worse, he wondered if the hunter, who was so frank about everything, would let such a thing go without comment.

He soon had his answer.

 

Xxx

 

They had just stopped to recover from a quite intense clinch. 

Fergus sat at a bench, drinking water, his towel on his lap for some cover.

Bobby put his water bottle on the bench besides Fergus and threw his towel on his shoulder, after drying some sweat from his neck, ‘You need a break?’

Fergus breathed deeply before answering, ‘Isn’t it a break?’

‘I mean to take care of that’.

He made a gesture to Fergus’s middle.

The former demon’s cheeks had, at least, the decency to redden at his erection being assessed, ‘Why? I don’t believe it’s decreasing my already poor fighting abilities’.

‘Just guessed it is uncomfortable’.

‘Not much’, Fergus licked his lips in embarrassment, then stood, a hand keeping the towel in place, ‘But if it bothers you, we can end our activities for now’.

Bobby’s eyes stayed in the towel for a while.

Finally, he raised them to Fergus’ face and spoke, calm and decisive, ‘Nope’.

Without unlocking their eyes, Bobby picked the towel from his own shoulder and threw it aside.

The gesture was so nonchalant and confident that Fergus felt his throat dry and his pants get tighter.

If it was any other person, he would read that as seduction.

But it was Bobby. He was naturally charming and sexy, to Fergus. It was not the man’s fault that his spontaneous behavior made him even harder.

Bobby walked up to him and reached out for his towel.

The move was unexpected, and Fergus froze.

Bobby grabbed a corner of the towel and pulled it slowly, eyes on Fergus’ all the time.

It felt like the hunter was disrobing him.

Bobby folded the towel and put it on the bench.

The fact he had taken the time to deal with it, not just throwing it aside as he had done with his, made Fergus bit his lip in a new wave of something that was arousal but was tenderness, too.

Bobby stepped closer, ‘Ready?’

Fergus just nodded, mesmerized.

And then, in a move that was a lot more forceful than what they were used to, the hunter threw himself at him.

Fergus fell to the ground on his back, and Bobby put his body over his, settling between his parted legs and hands trying to grab the former demon’s arms. 

It was a fight for dominance, as their ground training usually went, but their middles were rubbing in a new way, and the former demon started loosing focus.

No technique to get that big man off of him would come to mind.

First, because he didn’t really want Bobby to get off him. When would he have again the hunter between his legs like that?

But mostly, because it seemed all his blood was leaving his brain and happily going down to his cock.

He could feel the other man’s beard rasping against his neck and he let out a moan.

Realizing things were getting out of control, he stopped struggling.

His intention was to tap Bobby’s shoulder to convey his surrender. That was their sign to stop when one of them – usually Fergus – admitted defeat.

However, before he could move, Bobby grunted and turned him around.

Now the big man was pressed against his back, and Fergus’ arms and legs were sprawled on the floor.

One of Bobby’s hands grabbed his hip, the other his shoulder, and he moved against Fergus in the exact perfect way to make his erection brush the mat.

The former demon tensed, feeling the orgasm building.

He groaned a ‘Robert’, trying to warn the hunter.

Bobby intensified the movements, forcing him to grind against the ground.

Fergus was too aroused to do something effective to free himself. In the back of his mind there was a voice saying it was wrong to get off like this, but he was just human, now. There was a limit to what he could take in terms of sexual tension.

He felt again the beard against his skin, this time on his nape, and he shuddered.

Bobby’s voice reached his ear, ‘Let it go’.

The hunter spoke very close to that sweet spot that made him melt.

Fergus heard his own small whimper when the orgasm hit him.

He needed some time to recover, after that. It had been wonderful, but laced with shame, and all he could do for the time being was stay slumped while trying to regulate his breathing.

Bobby had remained on him, but supporting some of his weight on his arms and legs, giving him space.

Fergus was pondering if an apology was the right course of action when Bobby spoke again, ‘You all right?’

‘Oh, yes’, he answered, then groaned, ‘I mean, no. It seems I just lost to you again’.

He heard Bobby chuckle, then a hand caressed his hair, ‘I don’t wanna hurt you’.

Fergus moaned at the tender touch, ‘Don’t ever worry about it, pet’.

‘I’ll try not to’.

The hunter moved off and Fergus turned over, intrigued by the answer.

Bobby was standing, making a show of grunting like an old man, and offered Fergus a hand.

The Scot accepted it, not knowing exactly how to deal with the other man treating the situation with such normalcy.

‘Come on’, gentle blue eyes met his, ‘You’ve gotta have a change of clothes more than ever’.

Fergus stood in front of him, embarrassed, ‘Robert… I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have acted like a horny teenager’.

‘It’s ok’.

He blinked, ‘Really?’

‘Yeah’, Bobby gave a small smile, ‘You’re welcome’.

 

xxx

 

They never mentioned that again and, even if Bobby didn’t seem to mind, Fergus’ human conscience made him take precautions.

So, from then on he touched himself before going to the training.

It didn’t stop him from getting aroused, but at least took the edge of it, and he was able to control himself better.

 

Xxx

 

So, living with Robert was usually a bless, sometimes a curse, but in general, it was a delight.

Fergus didn’t exactly know where this was going with Bobby, who seemed interested in taking care of him more than anything else.

The other Bobby had been interested in sex and not in emotional support, while this Bobby was all the way in for emotional support and some intimacy, but didn’t seem interested in sex – the episode of the training kind of proved that, with the hunter’s actions more likely a favor than self-interest.

So, all in all, it was a loving relationship, with all the trust and bonding a former demon could wish.

Fergus started wondering how much time that would last.

He never managed any healthy relationships. He never managed stability.

 

Neither had the Winchesters, by the way.

But now they had all of it: the boys went on hunts, their mother had come to stay, Dean’s angel stopped being stupid, Bobby and Fergus were there.

They had never been so happy.

He never had been so happy.

It was almost scaring.


	9. Family matters

It took Bobby some time to stop acting awkward around Mary.

He still insisted on calling her ‘madam’, even after he managed to somewhat relax around her. Fergus supposed the reason for this was that Robert, being a gentleman, didn’t want her to think he had any intentions towards her like the other him had.

Fergus couldn’t deny he was amused by the behavior. Of course, Bobby would put the boys’ interests first and keeping a respectful distance from their mother seemed the obvious choice to make clear he was acting different from the other. 

The former demon found it a bit unnecessary to keep Mary at such a distance, but he was not going to say a word on the matter. It reinforced him as the closest person to Bobby, and Fergus was not above some misplaced jealousy.

Mary, seemingly understanding of Bobby’s general attitude (and Fergus’, because she was not a fool), brought up as often as she could how grateful she was that Bobby had been more than a mix of godfather and uncle to her boys – that he had been a real father, in John’s absence –, what made the man blush and try to hide inside his cap, but helped to undo any tension (sexual or of other nature) that could exist between them.

 

xxx

 

It was part of the familiar routine to sit around the map table, after dinner, to chat on whatever happened to be on their minds, and often something on the boys’ childhoods would come from Bobby and Mary.

Fergus had predicted it would happen, but it was not embarrassing, as he had expected. In fact, Sam and Dean were overjoyed to have two people who could tell them things about their younger years.

 

xxx

 

Fergus didn’t want to be grumpy about it, but he couldn’t stop himself from noticing that Bobby was not always comfortable during those reminiscing sessions.

The man would never deny a story to the Winchesters. Fergus was quite sure himself wouldn’t be able to deny anything to starry-eyed Sam and Dean, and that was what they turned into when their surrogate father spoke about them to their mother.

However, it was obvious to him that Bobby sounded hesitant, even cautious, and it worried him that remembering some things may be painful to the older hunter.

He hesitated on bringing up the subject, once it would probably be useless to offer help to Bobby, but he knew it was a matter of time for him to blab. He worried too much about the man to not say anything, and he wanted at least to offer his ears, if it was the case of getting something off the hunter’s chest.

 

Xxx

 

The opportunity arrived unexpectedly.

(The opportunity to blab, in this case.)

Fergus entered the garage and saw Bobby studying the motor of one of the olds cars.

The hood was open and the hunter had half his body under it.

‘Hello, Robert’, he said, hands on his pockets and a smirk on his face at the prospect of startling the man, like in the old times.

Bobby just grunted in acknowledgement.

‘Not even a spare glance’, Fergus tsked, ‘We’re so married’.

The hunter reached out for something even deeper in the motor, ‘Don’t have to look to know you’re as pretty as ever, Princess’.

Fergus grinned like a fool, ‘You always know what to say, Singer’.

‘It’s a matter of survival’.

Fergus rolled his eyes and let the tease go, ‘What are you so invested in, love?’

‘Studying the alternator’, his hand fussed with something hid from the other’s view, ‘You need something?’ 

‘Mary wants to cook dinner’.

‘Let me guess. We don’t have enough greasy things and you need a chauffeur’.

‘Exactly’.

‘Just a moment’.

‘No hurry, pet. The view is quite pleasing from here’.

Bobby contorted his neck to look at Fergus and make sure he had got it right, ‘Uhm. Ogling my old ass, are you?’

Fergus just grinned cheekly.

Bobby scoffed and went back to whatever he was doing, finishing it up and straightening his back with a sway of hips that the Scot supposed was completely necessary.

The hunter washed his hands in a nearby sink and both went to the truck he had chosen as his for town incursions.

Bobby occupied the driver’s seat, Fergus the shotgun.

The hunter’s strong hands grabbed the wheel and manipulated the gear lever, and the former demon had to force himself to look away.

It was never easy to stay so close to the man he had a crush. When they were by themselves, specially inside a car or in a room with closed doors, Fergus had a hard time diverting his thoughts from what those hands must feel on him.

He tried to distract himself from the lustful ideas, but as soon as they were on the road he was staring again.

Bobby was wearing jeans, he smelt good and Fergus already had his hands on his lap to cover the usual indiscretion.

‘Take a picture’, Bobby threw at him at some point.

Well, the man was known by his hunting abilities. Of course he would sense a persisting stare, ‘The one I took of us was heavily criticized at the time’.

The corner of the hunter’s lips turned up, ‘Smartass’. 

Fergus felt his heart beat faster. 

The traitorous organ was pumping blood to some places it shouldn’t, at this moment, and he suddenly missed the old times when he could control his vessel. 

He needed a distraction, and that was when he decided bringing a hot topic would help, ‘I’ve noticed you get uncomfortable when you talk about the boys as kids’.

‘What?’, Bobby frowned deeply, ‘Where this came from?’

‘I know I don’t have the right to intervene. I may not even be entitled to an opinion, once family is not exactly my specialty…’, he noticed the confused glance Bobby gave him and decided to go right to the point, ‘But it bothers me that you would keep talking about things that make you uneasy just to make the Winchesters happy’.

Bobby seemed to understand. He scratched his head and rearranged his cap, ‘Remembering the past is not easy’.

‘I know’, Fergus agreed, ‘Not every childhood was a time to remember’.

Blue eyes looked intensely at the road, ‘Yeah’.

‘Robert…’, he turned to the man on the wheel, ‘I can talk to Mary and ask her to avoid those kinds of conversations. I know you would never do it, but I will – if you say it’s all right for me to do so’, he hesitated, then added, ‘I mean, if it’s too much to you’.

Bobby looked again at him, ‘To me?’

‘I’ve seen your memories when your soul was… intercepted’, Fergus waited for the nod of understanding and went on, ‘I saw your childhood. I know what your father did’.

‘You mean what I did to him’.

‘You did what you could at the time. He was the adult. He should have known better than to mistreat a child – his own child, who had never done anything but try to please’.

Fergus realized his voice had broken a bit.

He had his own bad memories in the subject.

‘I appreciate the feeling, Fergus’, Bobby’s eyes softened, ‘I was not worried about myself’.

‘And what’s new?’, Fergus pursed his lips, ‘But I understand. With all the messes John made, it may be possible that Moose, Squirrel and the Queen Mother end up finding out something they don’t need to know’, he sighed, ‘It’s nice of you to protect them of any disheartening truths’.

‘Nah. The boys were there for the worst parts’, Bobby shrugged, ‘And nothing will change how Mary feels for John. She understands he was not in his right mind after her death’.

Fergus tilted his head, ‘You think there’s a lot of pain to reminisce about’.

Bobby thought for a moment, then agreed, ‘You can say that’.

They fell into silence, both lost in their own thoughts.

Fergus had been so distracted by the conversation that his hands left his lap to rest on his thighs.

The former demon was surprised when he felt the hunter’s hand covering one of his, ‘Thank you for paying attention, Fergus’.

It was rare that Bobby used his name, and he had done it twice during that conversation.

Fergus wondered if it meant he had done the right thing.

Sometimes he still thought the hunter may see him as Crowley – specially when he couldn’t stop himself from teasing and flirting. Maybe showing how much he cared was the way to prove his honest feelings.

 

xxx

 

They spent too much time together for Bobby to not notice when Fergus looked troubled, too.

In a certain night they had been doing a simple stalking – parked across the street from a house that could be a vampire nest – and the bickering was a bit more intense than usual.

‘Will you keep it down?’, Bobby hissed, ‘What possessed you, tonight?’ 

‘Very funny, Robert’, the former demon scowled, ‘I don’t see why you’re so bothered. We’re perfectly capable of watching the house across the street while I talk as loudly as I wish’.

‘You muted our cell phones’.

‘I put them on vibrating’, Fergus corrected, ‘The boys said you could shoot with your eyes closed; thus, you’ll be able to notice the humming of it’, he gave a sly smile, ‘Mine is closer to my groin. I’ll surely feel it vibrate’.

‘Jesus’, Bobby rolled his eyes, and settled them firmly on the house across the street, ‘Just shut your trap right now or I’ll show how good of a shooter I am’.

‘As if I didn’t know since the first time we met’.

‘And still you insist’.

‘You’re just grumpy because I won our little bet’.

‘I’m grumpy? You’re the one who’s been impossible all night’.

Fergus crossed his arms over his chest and didn’t answer.

He knew Bobby enough.

He suppressed a grin when the hunter resumed the conversation. 

‘The bet was Dean and Cas eye-fucking for more than 10 seconds’, Bobby said, eyes on their target, ‘You didn’t win’.

‘No, no, no. It was 10 seconds or more. It lasted 10 seconds. I won’. 

‘No way’.

‘In moments like this I wished our deals were engraved on your skin’, Fergus growled, ‘You humans are a traitorous lot’.

They were interrupted by a cellphone vibrating. 

It was Fergus’, and he made sure to wiggle his brows at Bobby before picking it from his pants’ pocket.

He pressed the green button, ‘Hang on, darling. I’ll put you on speaker’.

He did so, and Bobby greeted the person who had been supervising them from afar, ‘Good night, Charlie’.

‘Good night, old married couple! Any news on the vamps?’

Bobby grunted under his breath something about redheads who were smartasses, but he knew he couldn’t really question her – they had been bickering like an old couple. So, he did the report, ‘We’ve sent you shots of three people when they arrived and left. It’s all we have’.

‘I think it’s enough, guys. I can work on this to get some IDs’.

‘Are we relieved, then?’, Fergus asked.

‘Yeah, you are. Thanks a lot for the help’.

‘You’re welcome’, Bobby said.

‘What he said, pet’, Fergus grinned and added, ‘Charlie’s angels out’.

The red-head’s laughter was heard before Fergus terminated the call.

Bobby started the car, shaking his head, and glanced at the other man in the perfect moment to see him staring longingly at his own phone.

‘What?’, the hunter asked, ‘Missing the old times when powerful people called?’

‘No’, Fergus promptly answered, ‘Not at all’, he put the phone back in his pocket before resuming, ‘I miss never getting tired, travelling the world in a blink, healing my wounds, never having nature to call’, they shared a knowing look, ‘But not the deals. I was just joking about that’. 

‘But something is on your mind’.

Fergus took some time to answer – a whole block, in fact.

When he did, it was in a very serious tone, ‘I’ve been… exchanging messages with my mother’.

‘Oh’, Bobby sat straighter, ‘Nice and sweet messages?’

‘Trivial things’.

‘You told me you two didn’t discuss your history’, Bobby looked at Fergus and saw his tense face, looking ahead at the dark road, ‘Something different happened?’

‘She asked if I wanted to see her’, he answered, eyes ahead, hand nervously tapping the phone, ‘She mentioned she could be passing by and it would be nice to meet some towns over’.

‘And you want to?’

‘I don’t know. I mean, I want to. I think it would be quite nice to have lunch and chat as if we were normal related humans who never tried to kill each other’.

‘But?’ 

‘But it still hurts’, he clenched his jaw, ‘Her visit was the best scenario ever, and still I felt like I was being ripped apart by Hellhounds all over again – and I mean the Hellhounds who first dragged me to Hell, not the ones I used to cuddle with’, he shook his head, ‘Anyway, I’ve been living the rich life since you came back. Don’t really think I want to have a break from this for her’.

‘Now it’s my fault you don’t go visit your mother’, Bobby pretended to be offended. At Fergus’ smile, he added, ‘I’ll go with you’.

‘Pardon?’

‘You can’t go on like that, wishing to see her and not going to because she may burst your bubble’, Bobby spoke firmly, ‘I don’t want to intrude. I can take you to her and leave to mind my own business. Or I can watch out from a distance. Whatever makes you feel better’.

Fergus was touched, ‘That’s lovely, Robert, but I don’t want to bother you with my problems’.

‘Don’t be an idjit. It’s your mom, and you’ll be moping around while it’s not settled’, the hand rested on his, again, ‘There’s a way to make things easier on you, and we’ll do that’.

 

xxx

 

Fergus couldn’t quite believe he was introducing Robert to his mother on the sidewalk of the better hotel the witch could find, three towns over Lebanon. 

‘You didn’t mention we’d have a gentleman accompanying us, Fergus’, Rowena said as soon as the hunter took her offered hand to kiss it.

‘Yes, I mentioned’, he contradicted as calmly as he could, ‘You may not have payed attention’.

‘I insisted on coming’, Bobby spoke before things escalated, ‘Had some things to do in town. Besides, thought it was time to meet you’.

She looked between the two of them, ‘Any special reason for that?’, her eyes settled on her son, ‘Fergus?’

‘Robert is… my best friend’, he said, reddening, ‘It made sense that he came along, when he offered’.

‘It still does’, Bobby put an arm on the other man’s shoulders, ‘We’re very close, madam. We take care of each other’, he scowled at her, ‘We both have gone through a lot of crap and that is not happening, anymore’.

‘Oh’, she raised her brows in sudden understanding of his protective stance, ‘I see’.

Rowena smiled at them, and both man turned wary.

She suddenly had the face of someone who had just found out the most interesting thing and was not sharing.

‘I would be delighted if you joined us for lunch, Mister Singer’, she said, ‘Do you think you can take care of your tasks in time?’

‘I will’, Bobby promised, very serious.

‘Good’, she turned to Fergus, ‘Let’s take a stroll, my son?’

The men exchanged a meaningful glance, preparing to part for the time being.

Rowena turned and gave some steps away.

Bobby and Fergus frowned, confused.

And then it dawned on them that she was giving them space, as if they were a couple and etiquette dictated they were to be left alone to say their goodbyes.

Both cursed lowly (‘Balls’/‘Bollocks’) but decided, in one of their silent agreements, that correcting the misunderstanding was not worth it. Instead, they hugged tight, Bobby saying some muffled encouraging words just for Fergus to hear, before the hunter entered his truck and drove off.

‘Is there something you want to tell me, lad?’

Fergus turned to his mother, surprised.

It seemed he had stayed watching Bobby until the man disappeared from view, forgetting completely that he had company.

‘We’re not together, if that is what you’re thinking’.

‘That’s not what I just saw’, she gave that strange smile again, ‘He said you are very close, and then he showed it’.

‘Please, mother’, he huffed and, to her surprise, offered his arm for her to take, ‘Let’s have that stroll while you fill me with hope regarding my relationship status with Robert Singer’.

 

Xxx

 

Bobby was back for lunch in the hotel, as promised.

Mother and son were at easy with each other when he arrived, what seemed to appease him.

To Fergus’ chagrin, the witch made clear they had spent a lot of time talking about the hunter, filling the conversation with things like ‘Fergus mentioned you –insert here something Bobby had done beautifully–. Is that so?’.

Luckily for all involved, the hunter decided the best course of action was to act civil for the time being, and they managed a quite nice time together.

 

Xxx

 

When it was time to leave, they stood in the middle of the hotel’s lobby.

Rowena was the image of elegance and control, and Fergus could see Bobby was as bothered as him. They were, in some way, in enemy territory, and the potential enemy was one of the most powerful witches to have ever existed.

This time she didn’t hesitate and pulled Fergus for a quick hug, her hand caressing his hair. 

He fought to calm down and accept it without acting as if he feared she would put a knife on his back.

(He was not sure he managed completely.)

When they parted, she turned to Bobby and stated, ‘I’m glad my boy found someone who cares so much for him’, she added with a scornful look, ‘Even if he is a hunter’.

Bobby’s eyes widened and his mouth was agape, in his trademark surprised face at someone’s rudeness.

Fergus was surprised, too. The woman had changed gears – from delicate lady to menacing witch – too quickly.

‘It’s cute’, she went on, ‘My son, the former King of Hell, so close to someone who has such delicate feelings’, she raised her chin, ‘I hope you have the best of intentions with him, or I’ll be forced to intervene’.

Rowena spoke and took a step back, startled.

Fergus understood her reaction.

He knew she had said those things to get a reaction from Bobby. He had been a gentleman for the whole meeting, and she wanted to test him – see if he would cow in shock when confronted, or be able to keep a cool façade. 

She definitively didn’t expect the glower and the clenched fists.

Fergus had no idea what sore spots his mother had hit, but Bobby Singer was looking at Rowena with so much hatred that the witch was probably ready to use some spell to stop the man from attacking her.

‘Robert?’, Fergus put a hand on his forearm to call his attention.

Bobby looked at him and seemed to realize he had almost lost control.

He gulped down whatever had gone through him, licked his dry lips and spoke to the woman, ‘The same goes to you’. 

Their eyes locked.

The witch nodded.

They said their goodbyes. 

 

Xxx

 

‘Are you going to explain that?’, Fergus asked Bobby when they exited the hotel to enter the truck.

Bobby was still fuming when he answered, several blocks away, ‘The nerve of that woman’, he grabbed the lever with more force than necessary, ‘To suggest we had to be careful of each other’.

Fergus couldn’t prevent a foolish grin, ‘Pretty insolent of her’.

‘Yeah’.

 

Xxx

 

That meeting went so well that Fergus kept fawning over Bobby, looking at him more adoringly (if it was possible) and asking what he could ever do to repay the favor.

Bobby took the question seriously.

 

Xxx

 

‘I told you not to wear formal’, Bobby swatted Fergus’ hand from his silver tie, ‘Stop fussing’. 

‘It’s not everybody who can still look like a gentleman wearing plaid’.

Bobby pursed his lips at Fergus’ dark suit, ‘Jody will think someone died’.

‘She knows we both did, love’.

Bobby rolled his eyes and was ready to answer when the door in front of them opened. 

‘Hey’, Claire Novak was there, smirking at them. Before they could greet her back, she turned to the inside of the house, ‘No possession tests required! They’re bickering like Dean said!’

 

Xxx

 

Bobby and Jody had spoken through the phone after his return, and they had seen each other and exchanged some brief words while in a hunt with the boys. Longer visits had been off the table – he tended to avoid Sioux Falls, afraid someone would recognize him.

Fergus just visited the town at night for the same reason, and that was why they agreed having dinner in the Sheriff’s house would be the best way for Bobby to have an opportunity to finally chat with Jody and for Fergus to see her and the girls.

 

Xxx

 

That night it was just Claire and Alex at home. The other girls were spending the week with Donna, like they did now and then, and like they decided to do in order to not scare the newcomer off when the visit was confirmed.

No one had any idea how Bobby would deal with being in his old town again, and much less how he would interact with Jody. They didn’t have much time to know each other better after she found out he was a hunter of the supernatural: they clarified some things – she definitively stopped seeing him as the ‘town drunk’ and started seeing the kind of anonymous hero he was –, there was some stuff on Leviathans and then he died.

Jody had heard about Bobby from Sam and Dean and had some guesses from the things she knew he had done, and that was why she thought of him as a protector of the town’s people, quite selfless in his actions. 

That dinner was the first time they would sit and have a real opportunity to know each other.

 

xxx

 

The girls had liked Fergus since the first time they met him. He had been lost and lonely, arrived pleading for help, was punched on the face and kept handcuffed by Jody and, still, he had a fire that captivated Alex and fascinated Claire.

Nowadays, Alex liked exchanging anatomy tips with him – very aware that he learned his from demonic vivisection – and the only thing Claire still had against him was that he still resisted the idea of enjoying Castiel’s presence, while the girl had already mended fences with the angel for what he did to her father.

With Bobby things were different.

The two girls fell completely and unreservedly in love with him in that first meeting.

One dinner was enough for Jody to witness why everybody who knew him was so fond of Bobby Singer: he showed the gentleness of his character in every gesture, in the fond words about Sam and Dean, in the stories about Jody he chose to tell the girls, in the serenity when he spoke of his old life in Sioux Falls. 

Alex and Claire hit him with all kinds of questions about hunting, about life in town decades ago, about the ways he had cheated the law under Jody’s nose, and he answered with interesting info and entertaining tales, stressing the times when Jody caught him or had to save his ass.

 

xxx

 

Fergus was enthralled.

Bobby was telling the tale of hiding a corpse who insisted on being wherever it shouldn’t be, to his and the girls’ utter delight.

The former demon felt he was being observed, and noticed that Jody, who was sitting directly in front of him, was agape.

She was staring directly at him, not at the competent storyteller by his side.

Fergus tilted his head, frowning.

She closed her mouth but started making the strangest faces at him.

He answered with some confused ones of his own.

At some point Jody seemed to have lost her patience and got up from the table, ‘Time for dessert’, she announced, indicating the kitchen with her head, ‘Fergus, lend a hand’.

‘Of course, darling’, he got up under amused looks, straightening his tie, ‘Excuse me, people. It seems the Sheriff requires my presence’, he smiled gratefully at Bobby, who had pushed his chair for him, ‘If I’m not back in five minutes, call the cops. Oh’, he pretended to realize the problem in that, ‘Forget it’.

 

xxx

 

As soon as they were by themselves in the kitchen, Jody seized the opportunity of a string of laughter in the other room to enter interrogator mode, ‘Have you told him?’

‘Told who what?’

‘Told Bobby that you are head over heels for him’.

Fergus blinked, his mouth open in shock.

‘Are you denying?’

‘I’m just surprised at your straightforwardness’, he squared his shoulders, ‘Am I so obvious?’

‘What do you think?’, she put her hands on her hips, ‘You should have seen your face right there in the table. It’s ridiculous’.

Fergus pouted, ‘He is quite charming’, he gestured at the other room, ‘In my defense, everybody was staring’.

‘Yeah, he is great’, Jody agreed, calming down, ‘Don’t tell the girls, but it seems they have missed that wise-older-man figure in their lives’, she made a playful disgusted face, ‘It’s soothing to have him around’.

‘Who doesn’t want someone like him?’, Fergus sighed dreamily, ‘He could use that soothing voice on me all night long’.

‘Damn, you got it bad’, she chuckled and moved to pick some bowls, ‘I think he has no idea. You may have to bash it into his head’.

‘I thank you for the advice, darling, but bashing things on people’s heads is not my style, anymore’, he opened the fridge at her gesture to do so and picked the mousse, ‘If something happens, it will be when we feel ready’.

She squinted at him, challenging the resigned attitude.

‘I’m completely in control of the situation’, he forced a grin, ‘In peace with whatever Fate has in store for me’.

‘Uhum’.

Fergus looked away, munching on some bad words, and snarled, ‘Don’t push it, Sheriff’.

‘Ok, ok. Do it in your own time’, Jody answered, patting his arm and dismissing the subject, ‘Far from me to meddle’, she scrunched her nose in a calculated cute way and waltzed away from him and into the other room, ‘Hold on, people. Sweetness is coming!’


	10. Things you’ve got to know

Fergus heard Bobby’s familiar strong knocks on his bedroom door and smiled.

The man had been back for a bit more than four months, they spent most of their time together and, still, the former demon still marveled at the warm feeling that took him every time the man was around.

‘Yes, love?’

Bobby opened the door just a bit, making a point of not peeking inside, ‘Sam called the pizza place’.

Fergus moved to sit on the bed and say something on the Winchesters’ lack of creativity but ended up growling at an unexpected jolt of pain on his back.

The hunter heard it, obviously.

And, as expected, he announced, ‘I’m coming in’.

Bobby opened the rest of the door and saw Fergus sprawled on his back on the bed.

‘Jesus’, he closed the door behind him, ‘Tried to teleport and had a malfunction?’

‘Very funny’, the former demon grimaced, ‘My back is killing me’.

‘That’s why you ran to hide after the training, then’, Bobby squinted, ‘To feel sorry for yourself’.

‘Not really. I’m not an ingrate. I recognize my life is pretty good as it is’, Fergus grunted, trying to find a more comfortable position, ‘Just pondered that staying quiet for a bit would help’.

‘You, quiet?’, Bobby stood by the side of the bed, ‘That would be a day’.

‘It’s not your style to kick a dog that is already down’, Fergus put a hand over his heart in mock betrayal, ‘Et tu, Brutus!’

The hunter shook his head, smiling.

Then he crossed his arms, hesitated for a moment and spoke, very serious ‘We trained this afternoon and you didn’t say anything’.

Fergus felt his chest tighten at the concern, ‘I wouldn’t hide anything from you, love’, he breathed deeply, ‘My pathetic condition made itself known in the shower’.

Bobby nodded, his eyes hovering the other’s body, ‘Uhum’.

Fergus gulped down at the man assessing his condition.

Sometimes it was difficult not to have hope that the interest was not just friendly care.

And, still, it could be.

In fact, Bobby may think Fergus was lying. Those sharp eyes could be just trying to find any evidences of his deception.

‘What?’, Fergus asked, knowing he sounded wary, ‘You look like Castiel when he is staring into my soul’.

‘Shields down, captain. I’m interested in your body’, Bobby spoke in that grumpy tone that left no space for an argument, and seemingly not aware of the double meaning, ‘Show me where it hurts’.

‘Here’, Fergus put a finger on his lips, ‘Will you kiss it better?’

Bobby rolled his eyes.

‘Sorry, darling. Couldn’t resist’.

Fergus made sure to look sincerely apologetic. Bobby usually didn’t mind his flirting, but it annoyed him when it was used as a diversion maneuver.

The hunter didn’t accept any instances of the former demon not sharing things. The great gesture of accompanying him to the meeting with Rowena was a good example, but the truth was that Bobby kept vigilant even of the smallest things that could bother him.

They were so close everybody joked about it. The comments at their bickering, their preference for each other’s company and mutual influence were commonplace, these days. 

Bobby didn’t change his behavior, no matter what people said, nor looked embarrassed by the reactions he got from Fergus. 

The result was that Fergus fell in love with him more and more.

He was a creature known by his gift with words and, still, he was often worse than a teenager dealing with a first crush, overwhelmed by the turmoil of desperate tender feelings laced with sinful thoughts.

Bobby deserved the best, and Fergus knew he was far from that. 

So, he did what he could to be a good friend. 

He gave support to any ideas Bobby brought on – what was not that difficult, once the man always had good ideas.

He offered help in any tasks Bobby needed – what most of times wasn’t that much, because the man was damn competent.

He was always attentive – what was not that difficult, once he had real pleasure staying around the man.

Fergus was often assaulted by the thought that, no matter what he did, it would never be enough.

He would never be enough.

Life had been pretty good, in general – Fergus had a comfortable and fun place to live, he was surrounded by people with whom he felt safe and had strong bonds, he had a sense of purpose on his daily tasks; and maybe exactly because of that he had been able to develop and cultivate a lot of positive feelings.

Robert’s presence and attitude towards him created so much love and gratitude and desire inside Fergus that sometimes he thought he might explode in need of giving it; and still, being a demon for so much time may have left something twisted inside him, for he couldn’t be in peace.

Maybe he should just admit he didn’t deserve the pure caring feelings Robert had for him. 

‘You don’t need to worry’, Fergus tried to keep his voice even when he finally answered, eyes on the ceiling, ‘I’m sure it’s going away by itself after some rest’.

‘You can’t be sure of anything, idjit’, Bobby grunted, ‘Just sit up and let me have a look’.

It was useless to question the hunter when he was assertive like that.

Fergus groaned for the whole process of sitting, facing away from the other man, ‘Here’, he moved his arm to point at the small of his back, then to his left shoulder blade, ‘And here’.

Bobby made some small contemplative sounds and then commanded, ‘Take off your shirt’.

‘Why, Robert. Not even taking me to dinner, first?’

(Argh.

Why was he like that?!)

‘Shut your trap. I’m gonna feel your muscles’.

There was a smile in Bobby’s voice.

(Argh.

Why was the man like that?!)

Fergus took his shirt off, singing the chorus of ‘Physical’ under his breath just to annoy the hunter, and kept the shirt on his lap, knowing it would be necessary to cover his arousal.

He felt the mattress dipping when Bobby sat on it, behind him, and it spoke of such familiarity and intimacy that was sensual. 

Fingertips started exploring his shoulder blade, ‘Some knots in here’, Bobby said.

And then he pressed the exact spot to make Fergus hiss in pain.

‘Hold on’, Bobby put a soothing hand on his other shoulder, ‘It’s gonna hurt and then it’ll get better. You tell me when the pain is over, so I can move on. Get it?’ 

Fergus nodded.

The first time at each sore spot was the worst, but Bobby knew what he was doing, and the pain was slowly getting more tolerable. 

The hunter said something about pressure on the sore spot blocking the blood, and the release permitting the blood to flow again, filling the muscle and helping with the healing process, and it made sense but Fergus was kind of lost at that delicious voice saying things like ‘pressure’, ‘release’ and blood flowing to engorge parts of the body.

The voice was too close to his ear while those hands touched him. 

At least he could grunt and moan as much as he wanted to, given the context.

Bobby worked on his lower back, too and, when he was satisfied by the feedback Fergus gave him, he started a general soothing massage on his shoulders.

So, now it was not about help to relieve pain – it was just the man he loved being focused on his well-being and comfortable manhandling him.

Fergus’ hands pressed the shirt on his lap.

‘Feel good?’

Oh.

The voice.

‘Damn it, Robert’, Fergus grunted, his head falling forward and exposing his nape, ‘Why do you do these things to-for me?’

‘Why not?’, the thumbs brushed his neck, ‘You deserve it’.

The former demon scoffed, closing his eyes.

He was fighting the memory of himself telling a certain Moose how much he wanted someone to think he deserved love.

He was lucky Robert couldn’t see his face. It would just worry him to see how conflicted he was, and if there was someone who deserved to be preserved from any worries in this world, it was his Robert.

His Robert.

As if.

Fergus realized he was getting emotional and started some half-assed argument to convince Bobby to stop it, ‘It’s probably my fault’.

Before he could add anything to the thought, Bobby spoke firmly, ‘I was there. I made sure you stretched enough and did it right’, he used both hands to manipulate the sides of Fergus’ lower back, dangerously close to his hips, ‘Don’t start this bullshit about not being worth or whatever. That is for the boys and their self-sacrificing stupidity’.

‘All right’, Fergus surrendered, not really able to keep his ground in an argument, in that moment, ‘Do as you please’.

‘No fussing?’, Bobby pressed a bit more, extracting a new moan, ‘No fight left in you?’

‘Not for you, love’.

‘Think you’re just getting old’.

‘Pardon?’, Fergus moved his head to scowl at Bobby, ‘The gall you have!’

The hunter chuckled, ‘Stop fussing, idjit’.

The former demon obeyed, facing away again, ‘Stop belittling me’.

‘You want to be flattered or tended to?’

‘Both would be nice’.

‘You better watch out. That little voice in your head that says you can get everything you want at the same time…’, he spoke very close to Fergus’ ear, ‘…it’s lying’.

It sent shivers through his body.

‘Cold?’

‘Frustrated’.

‘It’s part of being human’.

‘Exactly. Humanity and its shortcomings’, Fergus huffed, ‘No healing. No smiting enemies’.

‘No poofing away’, Bobby added, ‘No pinning people on walls with a thought’.

‘Everything takes time and effort’.

‘That’s why we care so much for what we have – because we know everything comes with a price’.

The hands now palmed the hips, thumbs expertly drawing circles just under the curve of the buttocks. 

Fergus adjusted the shirt on his lap and resumed the conversation, ‘Don’t you ever miss Heaven and the powers you had there?’

‘There were no powers. It was just doing harmless stuff I enjoyed and summoning people I wanted to hang out with, and they were not the real people’. 

‘You missed having a purpose?’

‘Sure. Like you did. Wasn’t that why you tried to put some order downside?’

Fergus breathed deeply, ‘You know me very well, darling’.

‘We’re quite alike’, the hunter answered, ‘Heaven gives you the things you like in a loop. It’s nice, but gets old’, he started working on the waistline, ‘I guess it’s like living for centuries knowing you’re not building anything’. 

‘Or that everything is going to crumble down the moment you turn your back’.

‘Makes a person to wish there was more’.

‘Dante had it right with the concept of limbo’, Fergus stretched his arms tentatively, breathing out, ‘If there is a realm to where heroes go to feel hopeless and sorry for themselves it must be a place where there is nothing to do’.

‘Yeah. The guy nailed it’.

‘Limbo is described mostly as a place of regret’, Fergus went on, ‘I always wondered if regret would be the worst-OW’, he flinched and growled, ‘Second round?’

‘Yeah. Sorry’, Bobby’s hands stilled for a moment, ‘Too much? Want me to stop?’ 

‘No, love, it’s all right’, Fergus licked his lips, ‘Just took me by surprise’.

‘Should have warned you’, Bobby resumed the massage, ‘Hang on’.

‘Don’t get me wrong, love. You’re very talented with your hands’, Fergus groaned and tensed, ‘But I want you to know I enjoyed the previous modality a lot more’.

‘I can see that’.

The hands pressed relentlessly.

More grunts.

‘For God’ sake’, Bobby huffed, ‘Just go to your happy place for a moment, will you?’

‘My happy place is wherever you are, Robert’.

The hands froze.

Fergus closed his eyes in regret.

It was not that he was ashamed of his feelings. However, he was quite sure they had an unspoken rule of never stating things like that.

They exchanged nice words and praises – and, being Fergus involved, lots of innuendo – but never something that could be taken as a serious love declaration.

And now, thanks to his stupidity, it had been brought out in the open.

Fergus felt the hands leaving his back and panic rose in his chest.

He picked his shirt from his lap and covered his chest with it.

Maybe he wanted to show his repentance through some demureness, or maybe it was just an attempt to feel less exposed. No time to delve into that, now.

He turned around to face the hunter, praying that Bobby accepted an apology and just let his slip go.

Their eyes met.

He saw the conflict inside those blues.

He wished he had a clue of what to do.

Fergus gulped down.

He loved that man so much.

All that mattered was that Robert was happy, and Fergus felt, for the thousandth time, that he was not exactly doing the right things to help with that.

‘Guys!’, Dean knocked on the door, yelling, ‘The pizza is here!’

 

xxx

 

Bobby got up from the bed.

Fergus put his shirt on.

They left the room in silence.

Bobby waited for Fergus to close the door and they walked side by side to the war room, still in silence.

The Winchesters and Castiel were around the big table, chatting and laughing while they shared pizza, beer and cokes.

Bobby got a chair – as always, one that had a free seat beside it.

Fergus knew that the seat was for him but, after a moment of hesitation, he decided to occupy the other side of the table.

He felt the hunter staring at him.

He kind of expected Bobby to call him out in front of everybody.

However, the man didn’t. He turned to Dean, who had just offered him some beer, and entered the general conversation.

 

xxx

 

Fergus and Bobby were mostly silent through dinner.

Fergus explained his ‘half-assed’ (Dean’s words) disposition mentioning the pain in his back.

Bobby just grunted something.

Mary and Sam exchanged worried glances, and the younger Winchester broke the sudden silence getting up and announcing he was going to turn on the radio. 

 

xxx

 

Fergus was quite sure Moose had good intentions for the most part of what he did daily, but that boy could have bad timing!

The radio was playing folk music, what calmed them down and put everybody in a contemplative mode.

Fergus saw himself naturally slip into his habit of staring at Bobby.

His gentle eyes and modulated voice.

His small smiles when he told a story about himself.

His fond grins when the boys told a story about themselves.

His hands, that Fergus had just felt on him.

Neil Young was singing in the background, seemingly mocking his already messed up emotions.

When we were strangers  
I watched you from afar  
When we were lovers  
I loved you with all my heart

But now it’s getting late  
And the moon is climbing high  
I want to celebrate  
See it shining in your eye

 

‘I think I’ll retire’, Fergus said, getting up suddenly, ‘Sorry I won’t be helping to clean, tonight’.

He saw in the corner of his eyes that Bobby was looking at him.

He refused to acknowledge it.

Bobby would be enjoying the night with the people he loved if he didn’t have to be constantly bothered with Fergus’ problems. 

Fergus felt again that familiar stab of pain at his utter lack of ability to make someone happy.

He just created problems.

He really didn’t deserve to be loved.

Fergus heard Sam answering him with something about his need of rest.

Castiel added some words about healing him, but he just shook his head, nodded in what he expected was a recognizable gesture of gratitude and left the room.

The song followed him through the corridor.

Because I’m still in love with you  
I want to see you dance again  
Because I’m still in love with you  
On this harvest moon

 

Xxx

 

Fergus prepared a small duffle bag and waited until he heard the last footsteps and doors closing to leave his room.

He crossed the war room hurriedly and climbed the stairs planning to go straight out of the bunker, no last lingering stares. 

He intended to walk for a while and, hopefully, pick a ride until some town with a decent motel to stay the night and, hopefully, have a clear mind on what to do with his life.

He was starting it all over again, far from Robert. 

He had money. He could do it.

He may even call his mother. Their relationship had improved enough for her to be supportive if the heartbreak showed.

Fergus decided to exit through the garage. It felt less depressing than the front door.

As soon as he entered, he couldn’t stop himself from staring at those cars that Robert was so fond of.

He forced himself to look forward, trying to focus on the doors, but his eyes fell on Robert’s truck.

 

Xxx

 

Fergus had been sitting on the ground for some time, back supported on the old and reliable thing that was Bobby’s truck, the duffel bag forgotten beside him.

It was a hellish existential crossroad: if he went away, he would remain exactly like he was feeling in that moment – lost and alone. If he stayed, he would be back to the guilt of disturbing Robert’s deserved paradise on Earth. 

He had no energy to get up and go on with his plan. He felt miserable and defeated.

Hurried steps sounded in the garage and Fergus knew he had been busted.

He looked up, resigned to wait and see who had been to his room to ask what the Hell was happening and realized he was gone.

Well, it was Robert himself.

‘Thank God you’re here’, the hunter put a hand over his heart, panting, then scowled down at Fergus’ sitting form, ‘What do you think you’re doing, idjit?!’

‘Summoning a demon’, he spoke nonchalantly and then yelled in a bolt of frustration that would make Crowley proud, ‘WHAT DOES IT LOOK LIKE?!’

He spoke and, at Bobby’s worried face, felt himself deflate.

‘You were leaving?’, the hunter asked in a small voice, ‘But you didn’t even take your best clothes’.

Fergus made a confused face at him, ‘Pardon?’

‘You left a lot of your things behind’, Bobby seemed distraught, ‘I thought you just needed some time away’.

Fergus wished he had thought of that excuse, ‘It’s a way to say it’.

‘You didn’t plan on getting back’.

Fergus looked down, shaking his head.

He didn’t have the words to explain himself, but he was not lying to Robert.

‘Hey’, Bobby called, softly, ‘We have to talk’.

‘No’, Fergus answered, not raising his head, ‘I’m going as soon as I can. I just need some moments to… adjust’, he sighed, ‘I’m being pretty ridiculous, I know, but-’

‘You’re not ridiculous’, Bobby cut off, ‘Pretty, yes. Not ridiculous’.

Now Fergus raised his head.

Bobby was shuffling his feet nervously, ‘I couldn’t sleep. Had to talk to you. Make things clear’, his eyes were pained, ‘Had the scare of my life when I knocked on your door and you didn’t answer. And then I opened it and you were not there’.

‘Robert, you don’t have to-’

‘You were not in your room’, the hunter repeated, upset, ‘I thought I had lost you’, he gulped down, ‘I’ve lost everyone I loved. I broke everything I touch…’

Bobby stopped talking because Fergus was muttering his disbelief angrily while supporting himself on the old truck to get up the fastest he could.

‘Good. Was getting a kink in my neck’, Bobby sighed, relieved, when they were at eye level, ‘Can we talk, now?’

‘I can’t believe you!’, Fergus was furious, ‘You found out I was leaving and the first thing on your mind was that it was your fault?!’, he snarled, ‘Why do you do this to yourself?!’

Bobby had his patented surprised face, mouth slightly open in shock.

‘And don’t you dare act cute, you moron!’

The hunter recovered, ‘You’re scolding me for thinking it is my fault you’re leaving?’, he frowned, ‘If you don’t think I am to blame, then you think it’s you’.

‘Of course it’s me’.

‘Who is the moron, now?’

Fergus breathed deeply, moving his jaw as if munching on the next words to calm down a bit and organize his thoughts.

It was time to tell the truth.

‘I can’t stand being so close to you, Robert. I can’t control myself. I say the most unbecoming things. I have improper behavior’, he looked down, shame taking him, ‘You do everything for me, and I will not be able to ever repay it. You deserve so much…’, he fought some tears and won, for the time being, ‘I’m honored by your friendship. I was never so happy as I was with our camaraderie, but… it’s not enough’, he flinched, eyes still casted down, ‘No, that’s not what I wanted to say. You’re more than enough. You’re all I ever wanted, Robert. But I know it’s a matter of time for me to embarrass you in front of everybody. I’m going away before I do something that you’ll hurt you’, he gulped down the knot in his throat and forced himself to look into the other’s eyes, ‘I couldn’t forgive myself if it happened’. 

Bobby, his face frowned in concern, gave a step closer, ‘Once you told me I shouldn’t worry about hurting you’.

Fergus leaned his head, confused, ‘Yes’.

‘I promised I was going to try’, Bobby spoke softly, ‘It’s not easy, because I still think I’m the one who hurt others’, he advanced more, ‘I need you to do the same. I need you to believe you’re not going to hurt me’. 

‘I’m not a demon, anymore, but it doesn’t mean things run smoothly for me’, Fergus retorted, ‘Even with the best intentions, I’ll probably end up hurting you’.

‘How could your love hurt me?’, Bobby leaned his head in question, ‘It hasn’t done it until now’.

Fergus’ eyes went large.

‘Yeah, I know how you feel’, Bobby said, ‘I’m not stupid’, he scowled, ‘Even if I was, people made sure to talk to me – Mary. Sam. Jody. Even Castiel’, he huffed, ‘Your mother made sure to have a word with me last time the boys called her’.

Fergus paled.

‘I noticed your heart eyes. Damn, I noticed you making bedroom eyes at me. I don’t get what you see in this old carcass, but that’s not my problem’, he shrugged, ‘I wanted you, too. So, I stayed close, waiting for you to make a move, but you’re all bark and no bite’.

‘Wait a moment’, Fergus raised a hand, ‘You’re saying you have been flirting back all this time?’

‘I don’t flirt, Princess. That’s your game’, Bobby made an impatient face, ‘I gave you all the passes I could. I touched you. I offered myself on a plate, and you didn’t take it’. 

Fergus made a whole contorted face of disbelief.

‘Thought you were just joking around’, Bobby entered the other’s personal space, ‘Couldn’t see other reason for you not to say anything’.

Fergus’ breathing quickened at the closeness.

‘I wanted you, but was afraid to mess things up’, his hands moved to settle on Fergus’ hips, ‘You’re the guy with the fancy words. If you were not saying anything, there was nothing to be said. But then what?’

The shorter man was shocked, ‘You were waiting for me to take the lead?’

‘Yeah, idjit. And you decided to go away’.

‘But earlier…’, the hands turned a bit more possessive on his hips, ‘…when I said you made me happy…’

‘You mean when you suddenly threw at my face that I make you happy?’

‘Technically, I was not even speaking to your face’.

‘Fergus…’

‘Don’t growl at me’, was the answer, even if Fergus was growling back, ‘It goes right where it shouldn’t’.

Bobby forced Fergus to step back and be pressed against the side of the truck.

The hunter used his taller frame to take control of the situation, lowering his head to put his lips close to the other’s ear, ‘Show me’.

Fergus gasped when Bobby rubbed their middles.

‘Yeah, I felt it’, Bobby said, parting just enough to cease the contact, ‘It went right there’, he smirked, ‘And it’s ok with me’.

‘Really?’, Fergus put his hands on Bobby’s chest tentatively, ‘You’re sure that it’s all right?’

The hunter sighed, ‘You were born on the other side of the ocean some centuries ago. You lived, you sold your soul, you died. You became a demon, and then you became a boss demon. You’ve heard about the Winchesters boys – the ones I had raised by chance – and you decided to ally with them to kill Lucifer with the Colt. When it didn’t work out, you came after me for a deal. I accepted, we sealed it, we worked together, we blackmailed each other, we teased each other, we stared from afar. I died. Years later, you died. You came back as the human you had been in those centuries ago. Heaven went into a crisis and I came back’, Bobby smiled, ‘What’s the odds of us being here, right now, together?’, the smile grew, ‘Do you really think we have the right to not grab this chance and sort things out?’

‘When you put it like this’, Fergus smiled back, hands getting bold on the chest, ‘It would be quite inconsiderate with Fate’.

‘We would be two cowards’.

‘Not acceptable’.

Bobby lifted a hand to caress Fergus’ lower lip longingly.

Fergus kissed the fingers.

The hunter’ eyes went darker, ‘I feel like sealing this like that deal’.

‘Never thought I’d hear it from you, love’.

‘Maybe if you still were Crowley, I wouldn’t say it’, Bobby whispered, leaning in, ‘I could see something different in the way you looked at me back then, but I wouldn’t risk something with that demon’, their lips were very close, ‘With you I feel like there is no risk’, he sighed, ‘Just love’.

Their lips touched and their eyes closed.

It was delicate. Feathery.

The teasing made Fergus shiver.

‘I want it’, Bobby said, separating their lips, ‘But I need to tell you something, before we go on’.

‘Can’t we just make out for now?’, Fergus’ hand went to Bobby’s neck to pull him back, ‘You’ve said the most beautiful things, darling. I’m not sure I can handle serious conversations’.

‘It’s important’, Bobby grunted, his own lips betraying him, kissing the side of the other’s neck, ‘Not sure I can keep it in my pants if we don’t stop…’

‘Let’s find out’, Fergus spoke and, with a strength that Bobby wondered if came from sheer lust, inverted their positions, opened the hunter’s legs to get them on the same height and settle between them, assaulting his mouth with everything he had.

Bobby relaxed against the truck and into the kiss.

It was a deep, wet, delicious, possessive kiss.

When Fergus parted from him, both were panting and very, very hard.

The former demon sported a mischievous grin, ‘So? Can you keep it in your pants?’ 

Bobby, to his chagrin, pulled Fergus against him, rubbing their middles, ‘Had forgot what you could do with that mouth’, his lips searched the other man’s hungrily, ‘Can’t believe we just had the one kiss’.

‘At least it was unforgettable’, Fergus smiled into the new clash of their mouths, ‘Touched myself thinking of you for quite a while’, he nuzzled the other’s beard, ‘Intercepted your soul in hopes I could have you, and then didn’t have the foggiest idea of how to get what I wanted…’

It was Bobby’s time to moan at lips sucking his neck.

‘I’m going mad, Robert’, Fergus’ hand caressed the front of the other’s jeans, ‘I need to feel you’. 

‘Balls!’, the hunter’s hand clenched on the other’s shirt, ‘Didn’t want to do it here’.

‘Shush’, Fergus said, hands on Bobby’s chest to calm him down, ‘Let’s have some relief from our sexual tension. We can ponder later on how appropriate it is, if that’s what has you so concerned’.

He spoke and started opening his trousers.

Bobby was agape, eyes fixed on the other’s movements, ‘No, I… just have… those things to tell you’.

‘I know, love’, Fergus let the trousers fall, then did the same with his boxers, ‘And I swear I’ll be all ears as soon as we’re done here’.

His erection stood shamelessly between them.

Bobby reached out to gingerly touch it.

‘May I?’, Fergus asked in a hoarse voice, fingers on the button of Bobby’s jeans.

The hunter nodded.

Fergus captured his mouth for a new deep kiss while he opened the jeans and pulled it down.

Bobby helped with the boxers and, when Fergus took both their erections in his hand, he moaned loudly.

The man was very talented with his hands.

That domineering trait was damn arousing, too. 

The hunter explored the body in front of him on bold caresses, not able to stop himself. Fergus’ touch took away any control he had over his own instincts.

Their first time coming together went like that: locked in a passionate kiss, pants around their ankles, shirts on, hoping no one entered the garage filled with old cars to interrupt their bliss.

When it was over, they exchanged small kisses while they recovered, still hanging on each other.

Fergus used his hand covered in cum to tease their cocks and make both of them shiver in aftershocks of pleasure while their tongues massaged each other.

‘You’re so good’, Bobby murmured against the other’s neck, and chuckled giddily, palming his ass, ‘I hope I can keep up’.

‘You in my arms is everything I need, beardy’, Fergus smiled contentedly, kissing a cheek, ‘We can do nothing at all, or I can be your one-man show. You just have to ask and I’ll do everything’. 

‘Jesus’, Bobby parted to look at the other man’s face, ‘What kind of promise is that?’

‘Robert’, Fergus spoke in a tone that was fond and, still, condescending, ‘You are generous. You are understanding. You are wise and knowledgeable’, he passed his fingers through Bobby’s hair, ‘A big bear filled with love just for me’, he smirked, ‘I don’t stand a chance. I’ll pleasure you as much as you ask me to, and then some times more just for my own amusement’.

Bobby had that precious shocked face.

‘You’re adorable’, Fergus said, ‘It’s fortunate I can take care of myself, given my age and experience, or I would be at your mercy’.

‘Stop it. I’ll probably be the clumsy one’, Bobby gave a shy smile, looking down, ‘Count on you to help me figure things out’.

Fergus nodded, his clean hand reaching for Bobby’s chin to lift it, so their eyes could meet again.

‘Hey!’, Bobby swatted the hand away, ‘I’m not a schoolgirl’.

‘No, you’re not!’, Fergus said with exaggerated emphasis, then pecked Bobby’s lips, ‘You’re my brave manly hunter’, a new peck, ‘Barely can wait to have you on top of me, that big thing of yours stretching my insides while I beg for more’.

‘Damn it!’, Bobby huffed, hardening again, ‘You promised we were going to talk’.

Fergus was going to tease him, but he saw it was important to Bobby and got serious, ‘Sorry, love. Got carried over’, he put on his businessman face and looked around, ‘Do you have something here for me to take some of our stuff from my hand? Would be annoying to bump into Castiel and have to explain to him that the Pizza Man has nothing to do with it’.


	11. The other things you've got to know

Bobby found a towel in his truck for cleaning purposes.

When they considered themselves decent enough to cross the bunker – not so disheveled, clothes not so disarranged, lips not so swollen – he grabbed Fergus’ hand for them to walk side by side.

The former demon pondered on teasing the hunter on the possessive/protective/demanding gesture, but he found himself grinning foolishly at all the possible implications of it and decided that enjoying his hunter’s affections was more important than anything. 

 

Xxx

 

‘Mine or yours?’, Fergus asked with a smile and a meaningful wiggle of brows when they reached the corridor of the bedrooms.

‘Yours’, Bobby made a gesture for the duffle bag, ‘I’ll help you put those things back’.

‘Should I feel offended, Robert?’, Fergus opened his door and kept it ajar for Bobby to enter, ‘Are you being a gentleman or a paranoid?’

‘Does it matter?’

‘Of course it matters’, he closed the door and locked it, ‘I would prefer you trusted me’, he put the bag on the bed, ‘If I said I’m staying, that’s because I’m staying’.

‘You didn’t say it’.

Fergus stopped fussing with the bag’s contents and looked at Bobby.

The hunter was standing in the middle of the room, insecurity written on his face.

‘Sorry I was not clear about it, love’, Fergus approached and put his hands on the other’s bearded cheeks, ‘I’m definitively staying’.

‘I’ve learned not to trust your silences’, Bobby made the necessary effort to scowl, once the corners of his lips wanted to turn up, ‘That’s where the danger stands’.

‘You thought I could have seduced you, used your body for my pleasure and simply go away?’, Fergus was teasing, but there were traces of worry in his eyes.

‘Not sure’, Bobby leaned in for their lips to touch tenderly, ‘Maybe just wanted to hear the words from you’

‘I wouldn’t have left you even when I was a demon’, Fergus said, closing his eyes at the touch.

‘I get it you’re the kind of guy who calls in the next day’.

‘I hope you don’t regret giving me your number, pet’, the shorter man stared adoringly, throwing his arms around the other’s shoulders, ‘Because I’m pretty sure I’ll turn out to be clingy’.

‘You already are, shorty’, Bobby said and, before Fergus could answer the mockery, slapped his rear, ‘Now move your ass. You have a bag to undo and I’ve got revelations to make’.

 

Xxx

 

They had some entertaining time emptying the duffle bag and bickering about what the Scottish had chosen to take with him while in a moment of emotional stupidity.

When everything was back in their places, they sat on Fergus’ bed, legs up, facing one another.

‘You seem quite nervous’.

Bobby pouted, looking away, ‘Yeah’.

‘Just say it, love. No matter what it is, we can work it out together’.

‘Don’t get sappy on me’.

‘Aw. But it’s part of being clingy’, Fergus grinned, ‘Now that I know you want me, I’ll give you everything I have’.

Bobby reddened, ‘Damn. I really hope you don’t change your mind about us’.

‘Based on whatever you have to tell?’

Bobby nodded, ‘It’s not right I keep these things to myself, but I’m not sure how you’ll take it’.

‘First of all: nothing is going to change my mind about us, love – and this is not an empty promise or a sappy declaration’, Fergus took Bobby’s hand, ‘All I want is to be with you, now that the real you is here’.

Bobby gave a small, grateful smile.

Fergus raised a brow, suddenly suspicious, ‘You are yourself, aren’t you?’

‘No’, Bobby rolled his eyes, ‘I’m the other me pretending this whole time’.

‘Don’t even joke about it’.

‘Right’, Bobby sighed, ‘Yeah, idjit. It’s me’.

‘Then go ahead’, Fergus lifted Bobby’s hand to kiss it with a smile, before letting go, ‘As promised, I’m all ears’.

The hunter nodded, breathed deeply and started, ‘You know about the time when I helped Cas to prison break Metatron, don’t you?’

‘Yes, I know about it’, Fergus pursed his lips, ‘One of the many occasions when Castiel proved to be stupid’.

Bobby leaned his head in agreement, ‘When they were gone – Cas and the winged scribe – a bunch of angels came over to see me’.

‘In your Heaven?’, Fergus’ eyes were wide for a moment at the meaning behind it, and then he got angry, ‘Team Free Will and their stupid plans! Haven’t they thought for a moment that you would be stay there to face the consequences?’

‘I knew what I was getting myself into when I decided to help’, Bobby stated, ‘That’s not the point’, he waited for Fergus to calm down a bit and went on, ‘They put two plus two and found four – if Cas was involved and all Robert Singers were running around and wrecking havoc, I was involved, too’.

‘Robert’, Fergus shook his head, distraught, ‘I wish I knew what was happening at the time. I could have done something’.

‘Relax, will you? I’m here. Things went like they had to be’.

Fergus huffed but made a gesture for him to get on with the story.

‘They just stood there being creepy, staring at me and not saying anything’, Bobby shivered at the memory, ‘I had no idea what they had planned. I wondered if they would watch me forever, or throw me in Heaven prison, or just smite my soul’.

Fergus stayed in silence, his face showing he was anxious for what was to come.

‘Suddenly they said it was a waste of time to punish me, because I was too stubborn and would repeat my mistakes, like any stupid human is going to do’.

Fergus frowned, ‘You must have got highly suspicious’.

‘Didn’t have the time for that. They mentioned ‘an infallible method’ to make me learn my lesson and light blinded me’.

Fergus gulped down in irrational fear at something that seemed to be past and solved.

‘I heard them in my head. There were not words, just ideas – of learning to appreciate Heaven through seeing what they called ‘an example’’, Bobby joined his hands on his lap, nervous, ‘I was going to see someone who had such a miserable life he ended up damned’, his eyes found Fergus’, ‘They had decided to throw me back in time to watch the defining moments that disgraced a soul’.

Fergus paled, realization dawning on him, ‘Don’t tell me…’

‘Yeah’.

 

Xxx

 

When Bobby could open his eyes again, the angel light was gone and he found himself standing by a small house.

It was made of wood and clay, with no windows on the wall he was currently facing.

He turned to take a look around before exploring the perimeter to find more.

The house was isolated in a rural area. The sky was gray, and the distant rocky mountains were the only thing visible beyond the meadows.

The empty fields were covered with dark green grass, and a dirt road crossed the landscape some miles away before disappearing on the horizon.

Bobby turned back again to the house and shivered.

He didn’t feel cold, but he had a sensation of dread drenching his (metaphorical) bones. That place seemed made of sadness and poverty, and he understood that whatever he was going to witness there was not going to be pretty.

He reached out to touch the wall and test if he was really there or – as he believed – he had been sent in spirit form.

His hand went through the wall and, feeling safe to explore the house without being seen, Bobby steeped in.

The house was empty and somber. It had just one room, filled from ground to ceiling with wooden boxes, books and charms.

A quick look was enough for Bobby to know a witch lived there.

He inspected as much as he could, not being able to touch anything. There were ancient books that intrigued him and some ingredients he surely didn’t want to know what were. He was glad to not be able to feel any scents, because there was no possibility that the place didn’t smell rotten.

He noticed the sleeping arrangements: two small cots, as distant as possible from one another. The smaller one was in a corner, and by the diminutive size and utter disarrange of it Bobby wondered if the witch had a familiar. 

The door opened suddenly.

Bobby would have had a heart attack if he had a real body.

A petit redhead strode in, sporting the coldest of faces he had ever seen.

She walked to a cabinet in silence and started stocking it with something she had brought in a satchel.

She was wearing rags that involved her body artfully, keeping an air of dignity but surely not doing much against the bad weather. 

A new figure entered the house hurriedly.

It was a small boy, and Bobby understood that the woman had walked ahead without waiting for him.

It was not possible to know his age. He was dirty and seemed malnourished. He had big serious hazel-green eyes that spoke of a life of harshness and responsibilities too heavy to be carried by someone so young and frail.

The boy closed the door carefully and turned, joining his hands in front of him, staring humbly at the woman.

Time passed and it turned obvious she wouldn’t pay any attention to him.

He started speaking in a very childish-sounding voice.

Bobby couldn’t understand the language, but the angels provided that he could get the general idea, and he found out that the boy was apologizing.

It had something to do with not killing the animals when he was ordered to.

Bobby felt pity for the kid. He was just a small boy who lived with a witch, and he was gathering all the strength he had to make shaken promises of doing better if given another chance – in which ‘being better’ meant killing the only living beings he saw everyday, besides that woman.

The beings for whom he cared for.

The redhead stopped whatever she had been doing and turned to him.

The boy fell quiet and lowered his eyes under her icy glare.

Now all Bobby could see was a mass of reddish-blonde hair that made the boy seem even smaller.

The witch started speaking, and there was no emotion at all in her voice. 

She stated he was useless. She said he was not worth even the three pigs the man in the market had offered as a joke. 

She said she would have accepted if it had been a serious offer.

She said she would be better if he had never been born.

Bobby saw the boy’s tears falling to the ground.

The woman went on for some time, listing things the boy couldn’t do properly and making sure he understood he was nothing but a burden. Then, she stopped talking suddenly.

The boy raised his eyes, large with concern.

The woman was looking ahead, as if having an idea and pondering on what to do about it.

The boy called her shyly – the word he used sounded like ‘mother’ in Bobby’s ears –, she snapped out of her own thoughts and ordered him to bed.

He obeyed immediately, occupying the smaller cot in the corner and pulling some of the rags there over himself.

He was trembling.

It could be the cold, but Bobby knew very well how it felt to be treated like garbage by a parent. He knew very well the misery, the guilt, the shame, the dread, and the physical effects it had in a small child who couldn’t understand the turmoil of bad emotions inside. 

The woman worked around the place for some time, and the boy kept watching her from his corner, his eyes filled with admiration, taking in every precise and elegant gesture she made.

If there was an image that could represent unrequited love, there it was.

Bobby felt his eyes fill with tears and blinked.

He found himself outside the house, again, close to an empty pen.

The boy was there, too, looking at the pen, and Bobby understood that the animals had lived there, but were all sold. 

The boy picked three rocks from the ground and started juggling.

Bobby supposed some time had passed since he last saw him. He was wearing different clothes and his hair was longer. 

He was still small, malnourished and dirty, but his eyes lightened a bit when he managed the three rocks well. 

The hunter smiled when the boy picked another rock and started a new round.

It worked, and he stopped to pick a fifth.

This time it didn’t work, and when the rocks fell the boy huffed in a gesture that was comical for such a small and young creature, and sat down dejectedly. 

Bobby frowned, wondering why the kid was so sad, and approached.

Staying closer gave him access to the general things going on the boy’s mind, and he was startled by what he found out.

The boy had not been playing. He was training. He expected to do something that could earn him some money in the village’s fair. He hoped he had some talent – anything to finally help his mother and stop being so useless and bad like he was in everything else.

Bobby felt his heart break.

That poor child had no one to tell him that his mother was wrong. 

He was just a boy who did his best and deserved to be loved.

The sound of wheels and creaking wood made the kid stand and run up the closest hill.

Bobby followed him and they halted when they saw a small wagon that was stopping in front of the house.

The boy started walking slowly.

Bobby could swear the child’s heartbeat was the louder thing around.

The man in the reins barely spared him a look. He hadn’t got off to help the witch, and seemed to be even impatient while he waited for her to bring bags and boxes to the cart.

When the boy reached them, the witch was hopping up the wagon. The man asked if she was ready, and just then she looked at the child – her child – and said some vague words about going on a trip and having important things to do.

The boy wanted desperately to ask how many days she would be gone, but he knew better than to ask anything, and he just stood there, in silence, while his mother looked away from him and told the man she was ready to go.

Bobby knelt on the ground besides the boy, who kept watching while his mother disappeared, those big eyes filled with overwhelming fear.

The hunter felt tears in his eyes again and blinked.

He opened them to find out he was in the same spot, but some days later. 

The door of the house opened and three men appeared.

They were escorting the boy, who was silent and visibly sick.

The house had been sold, and the child didn’t have the right to stay there.

He sat on a wagon clutching a small satchel against his chest, trembling from time to time, his eyes sadly fixed on the house that was not part of his life, anymore.

Bobby blinked again.

To his surprise, this time he was inside an almost empty church.

It was a very simple place and, by the general appearance, he was sure whoever’s life he had been following through, must have gone back in time some good centuries.

He recognized the mass of red-blondish hair in the first row and went there.

The boy, now fifteen or something, was kneeling and praying with fervor.

Bobby noticed his hair was uncut and messy, but he seemed healthy and strong. His skin, now clean, was fair, and still he was not much taller than before, what made him quite similar to his mother. 

His big eyes were fixed on an image of the Virgin Mary, pleading and desperate.

Bobby sat beside him to get what was happening.

He was taken by memories that were not his.

Life in the Christian place for abandoned boys turned out not to be bad: he didn’t exactly like the early mornings filled with prayer, but he got used to it when he realized being a good Christian favored him with clean clothes, food and a warm bed.

The work in the fields didn’t go well with him, who had developed athletic calves and strong legs but was a pretty boy with talented hands and a small frame; so, once he was obedient and a quick learner, he was picked for tasks indoors, like helping in the kitchen and cleaning the rooms.

When he started sewing with ease and competence, everybody cheered that he had been blessed with a profession. It was not as interesting as juggling, and he had kind of dreamed of having admiring eyes on him when he was a child, but those ideas were gone. He knew he was fortunate to have a place like that, after all he went through.

He should be peaceful and satisfied; however, his heart kept in a constant state of turmoil, because he hasn’t been able to fight his wrong desires.

Most boys around his age were starting to notice the girls in the Mass, and he was struggling with the vision of pretty girls, too, what was already worrying in itself if he wanted to keep his position as humble and quiet Church boy; however, he had been noticing his own colleagues’ bodies, too, and, to his shame and confusion, the bodies of some older men.

He prayed for the Virgin to help him. He needed to be a decent person. He could not have impure thoughts that kept him wake in the night and made him want to touch himself. 

He could not fall into the hands of the Devil. 

He could not be like his mother.

The Father said she had been an evil woman. 

The Father said he shouldn’t never forget her, and always watch out for the curses he could be carrying. 

The Father said it while he enlaced his shoulders or told him to sit on his lap. 

It was strange that the Father wanted him to sit on his lap as if he was a child, but it felt nice and warm.

The Father had been the only person to hold him. 

The Father felt good.

Bobby felt his throat tighten, and he blinked.

He opened his eyes in a darkened room filled with sewing material and big rolls of fabric.

A man, who he guessed was a tailor, moved around a girl on a stool, measuring her, while an older woman – the girl’s mother – watched them sternly. 

The tailor avoided to look up and silently focused on his work. Bobby just recognized him by the mass of hair.

Suddenly, the hunter realized there were two more people in the room.

Close to the door was a man in his late forties. He was the girl’s father, and Bobby frowned at his strange and seemingly detached stance, making a point of keeping a distance while his eyes were fixed on the young tailor, analyzing every movement of his almost eagerly.

In a corner was another girl, obviously older and poorer than the one in the stool. 

She was the girl’s maid. 

She was staring fixedly at the tailor, too, with a look that could just be described as hungry.

The general mood inside the room was tense.

When he was done, the tailor got up and started explaining the costs to no one in particular, while the older woman and the maid helped the girl down.

Bobby looked at the tailor now that he was standing.

Yes, there it was the already familiar mane of reddish-blonde hair and his big hazel-green eyes. His arms and shoulders had turned quite muscular, what made Bobby think he had gone through some hardworking times since he last saw him. 

He ended up short as his mother had been, and he still had the same fair and seemingly delicate skin he sported as a teenager, even if his jaw was now square enough to point at a strong trace of masculinity.

Bobby noticed the older man’s eyes over the tailor and felt nauseated at the possible abuse a pretty and poor guy like him could suffer in those old times.

The man sent his wife, his daughter and the maid out and approached the tailor.

They exchanged some words about prices and date of delivery for the dress.

Suddenly, the older man mentioned something about new pants.

The tailor, still wary, answered positively at an offer of work. The older man took that as a pass and grabbed the tailor’s hand to put it on his crotch, saying something about seeing for himself what was wrong with his current pants.

The tailor froze at the bold gesture, and Bobby instinctively got closer, in an urge to intervene.

The man put his free hand on the tailor’s head to push him down and Bobby reached out to take the man’s hand away.

It didn’t work, obviously. 

He was not really there.

Those things, those people – all of that was long gone. 

Standing so close to the older man, he felt his lust. He understood that the man – a relatively rich and powerful figure in the village – had been seeking an opportunity to be alone with the elusive tailor for some time. He was confident that his advances would be welcomed, once everybody knew the tailor had been abandoned by his mother, a witch, and sin ran in the blood.

Besides, the young man wore provoking clothes. He was certainly teasing when he put on thin layers that exposed his body even in the coldest of days.

The man wanted that rosy mouth around his cock. Maybe he would be back for something else another day, but for now he was content with a quick service. 

Bobby clenched his fists. 

The tailor had been trying to be good since forever. It was not his fault that his mother left, or that he was a witch.

He was resistant to cold because he had suffered from it since forever. It was not something to be aroused about. 

Bobby was furious with that man who knew nothing about the person in front of him and was not interested in knowing. He just wanted his own pleasure, and had not even the decency to treat the one he desired with human consideration. 

Bobby felt the tailor hesitating, and focused on him.

He was trying to keep his religious principles up front, resisting a new sinful offer.

However, it just lasted a moment.

The hand in his hair was insistent, he had been fighting those desires since forever, that particular man had messed with something inside him every time their eyes met in street, and he surrendered, starting to nuzzle against the man’s middle.

He had just gathered the courage to caress the older man’s legs with trembling hands slowly reaching up, when the door opened and the maid was back, making them part hurriedly.

Bobby watched the older man say something on coming another day and go away, like the coward he was.

The maid stayed and exchanged some words with the tailor.

Bobby didn’t need to understand the language to know what they were saying.

And he surely didn’t need to understand the language to know that the girl was blackmailing the tailor into having sex in exchange for her silence, what he agreed to do.

It was a sad scene to watch, with all the abuse and clumsiness, and Bobby forced his eyes to close, hoping he could be spared.

It worked. 

When he opened his eyes again, he was in a small ceremony.

The maid, sporting a very pregnant belly, was kneeling by the tailor’s side, and a preacher was marrying them.

Bobby stood beside the tailor, curious to understand how things had got to that point.

All he could feel in the young man was resignation, his mind blank and detached from what was going on around him. 

When he was called to say his vows, his mind went to focus and Bobby was able to read it.

The girl (the bride, now) had a habit of blackmailing people, what made her feared by the folk in the village and created a strong feeling of disgust in him. The tailor, who had made a point of being a good man and took her appearance in his life as a chance of redemption, accepted her presence and did everything he could to keep her from trouble.

She enjoyed sex with him greatly, what made things a bit easier. He got used to her shenanigans, like stealing a shirt or scarf that belonged to her master to wear it in their trysts. She smiled at the way he grabbed it to feel the man’s scent while they fucked, and he supposed it was nice of her to do something like that for him. 

That woman didn’t feel anything for anyone and she didn’t care what would take for her to get what she wanted. Her interest in him was based on lust – especially in the little kinks of his that she had found out – and he must feel grateful. She was in no way what he would have chosen for a life partner, but he didn’t deserve anything else, having those dirty desires inside him.

Besides, their meetings had been safe way to relieve himself from some of his sinful desires. It placated some of his urges, and for that he was truly grateful.

At some point she got pregnant and, contrary to what he had expected, she decided she wanted to have a child with him. More than that, she wanted to marry him and start a new life, showing off to the accusatory eyes of the village that the both of them could work out.

The couple exchanged their ‘I do’s’ in the almost empty ceremony.

The tailor looked at his wife, who was looking around as if challenging anyone to say a thing about her, now.

Maybe he had been lucky to get her, after all. He was cursed with the sins of his mother, as he had always been told, and with his own, as he knew, deep in his heart. He shouldn’t wish for much more, and at least she cared a bit.

Bobby felt his eyes fill with tears again.

He remembered his own wedding. His happiness. The shining in Karen’s eyes. The love they had between them. 

This was all kinds of wrong.

No one should live like that. A person shouldn’t accept crumbs and keep repeating to themselves they don’t deserve more.

He blinked the tears and found himself in a small and poor room.

The tailor, some years older, was sitting rigidly in a battered chair.

Bobby suddenly knew he had been waiting for hours in that chair.

His wife was in the next room, giving birth, and it had been complicated.

It had been complicated in the first three times, too. The babies had been born dead. The woman had barely survived.

She insisted on trying again, and he couldn’t say no.

Not when she had been obsessed with showing the women in the village they were a perfect normal couple, not two freaks – the son of the witch and the nasty maid.

Not when she had been such a hardworking wife, who had helped him keep their small possessions in order.

Not when she had been discreet about whatever she did to get the expensive ‘gifts’ that rarely but consistently appeared in their house.

Not when his body got feverish at some man he saw in the street and she was always amenable to help him with his release. 

The man prayed.

He asked God to recognize his efforts. He had resisted the temptations. He had made everything to be a decent husband and citizen. He worked day and night. He went to Mass. He didn’t criticize other people. He lived the righteous life.

He knew he had a lot to pay for, but Christ had come to clean the sins of poor humans. He had been unlucky and wrong since forever. He just needed a break. A small win. A bit of peace. 

Finally, the baby cried.

And then the door opened and a woman came through to announce that he had a boy but his wife, unfortunately, hadn’t made it.

The tailor got up from the chair, nodded and got out to make the arrangements for the funeral.

Bobby didn’t follow him.

He knew the man was going to occupy himself and in hopes of not thinking of the new loss.

And he knew, by his own experience, that it could go very wrong.

Bobby blinked to get away.

Now the tailor was in the middle of the street.

It was night, but not the same night: it was years later, and the man, obviously drunk, was supporting himself on the walls.

An old lady opened her window and scolded him for the noise at that hour. He tried to answer – maybe apologize, but he was too inebriated to articulate anything – and she made the cross sign, calling him ‘son of the witch’ and closing the window.

The tailor stood there, staring at the closed window, swaying slightly.

Bobby went to his side. 

Even knowing there was nothing he could do, he couldn’t help but moving as if he was able to hold the man in case he fell.

The proximity showed Bobby what was going on in the man’s mind.

It was mostly misery and despair.

Memories of his mother looking at him with despise mixed with images of his child, who had the family’s reddish hair and had cried for the mother he didn’t have for months.

The tailor sat on the ground, hitting his head with his fists.

Bobby sat by his side, watching powerlessly while the tears fell to the ground silently, showing the miserable and lonely boy still inside the grown man.

His neglected kid was being raised mostly by the neighborhood. People pitied the orphan of a mother who was never worth much respect and that had married the son of the witch.

No matter what he did, he would be the bastard, the one with bad blood in his veins, evil from the start, marked to fail in everything.

Bobby never wanted to hug someone as he wanted to hug that guy that had been so battered by Fate that he shared with him the feeling of being broken and harmful to others. 

But he couldn’t hug him. They were separated by centuries.

The tailor lifted his head and stared ahead, drying his tears and telling himself, one more time, that it was better that his son didn’t stay much with him. Maybe the boy could have a chance to get rid of the curse that was being a McLeod.

Bobby paled.

He realized that man was Fergus McLeod, the human who would turn into the demon known as Crowley.

The angels had seen him to watch the highlights of torment and misery in Crowley’s life.

Bobby stared at the lonely man sitting on the ground of a dirty road, in a dark night of a XVIIth century small Scottish village, and the weight of it fell on him.

That man had not been given a chance. He was abandoned and abused, in different manners, for his whole existence.

He was messed up by a crippling misplaced guilt for all he was and all he felt, hit by loss after loss, until he was reduced to a hopeless shadow of the person he could have been.

Bobby wished he could do something.

He wanted to tell the man that he would live to see a better world, that he would experience a more comfortable and even expensive life, that things would be all right.

But it was not exactly the truth.

The truth was that Fergus McLeod would keep living that miserable existence until he sold his soul and, after ten years, he would be tortured until nothing decent was left of him.

And just then he would emerge to something new, that may be a lot better than his human life, but was evil and twisted and devoid of real warmth and love.

Yeah, Bobby wanted to hug the man. A real hug would make a difference, when you feel like you have nothing.

But it was not really possible. He couldn’t change those things.

He blinked again and opened his eyes inside of what seemed a bar.

The place was dirty and confining, it was night again, and the tailor was slumped on a bench at the darkest corner table.

Bobby sat by his side. 

He didn’t know how old the man was now. The liquor probably made him seem older than he really was.

The mass of reddish hair was there. The big green eyes were there, too, but devoid of any life.

Bobby paid attention to his thoughts.

He was wondering how much time he could keep going on. He still worked as a tailor, but the clientele was as poor as himself and, even if he still was quite good and his hands were not trembling too much, he made just enough to not starve himself and have some credit to drink.

His kid was growing quietly, still passing most of his time out of the house, being fed and cared for people he didn’t want anything with.

But the worst was the desire.

He was not that young, anymore; the liquor made him sick; and, still, he had to fight it.

There were proposals. There were opportunities. He refused them all, desperate and horrified at his body’s responses, but decided to keep a last ounce of purity in his life.

He prayed, but sometimes it didn’t work, and he touched himself, and then he prayed more. 

He paid a whore for unmentionable practices, some weeks ago. He was quite sure she had spread what he had wanted to the whole village, if the looks people threw at him from then on were any indication.

He regretted taking the risk. It was useless. The desire always came back. There was no peace. The satisfaction was incomplete and short.

And still, it was a matter of time for him to do some other stupidity, thanks to the emptiness of his life and the complete lack of any hope.

He drank whatever dark amber thing was in his mug, thankful at the burning sensation in his throat.

Bobby understood the man was contemplating seriously the idea of killing himself.

Suddenly, a figure sat in front of them. 

Bobby could see through the sharply dressed man with an oily smile.

He knew immediately it was a crossroads demon.


	12. On the many ways to seal a deal

Bobby couldn’t take his eyes off the dirty grin on the crossroads demon’s face, and still his mind kept tuned on the tailor’s thoughts. 

The creature was babbling – started with something about the beautiful night outside, went to the importance of a strong drink and arrived, someway, in the pleasures no man should be denied.

The tailor didn’t say a word. He kept scowling at the strangely sensual figure in front of him, not quite understanding what kind of approach was that and what such a person could want from him, a poor and drunk skunk who was just sitting by himself in a dark corner of a tavern.

When the creature winked, being flirty in the worst way possible, Bobby felt his stomach churn in revulsion with the tailor’s.

And that was when Fergus got up and hit the table with his fists, leaning forward and saying some very harsh words on the stranger’s being a weirdo who he could black out with a punch the moment he decided to. 

That irritated the demon, and the façade of seduction fell.

The evil creature hissed back some very on spot words of his own.

He said Fergus McLeod was a hypocrite who pretended not to be interested in something new.

He said Fergus McLeod was stupid to still stay loyal to a God that never looked after him.

He said that Fergus McLeod should be a real man and do something about his own life – after all, his mother had left to pursue a life on her own and, being her a witch (and an evil doer), probably was a lot happier than when she shared a miserable existence with her unwanted son.

The tailor sat heavily back on the bench.

The demon was sporting a feral grin.

He knew he had hit the right spots.

He knew Fergus had realized what kind of creature he was and what he wanted.

Now that he had the full attention of the tailor, he resumed the suave demeanor and started planting the seeds of resentment in that desperate human heart.

He spoke of the unfairness of Fate and the emptiness of life in that miserable and cold corner of the world, talking as if he was there because the goodness of his inexistent soul couldn’t bear seeing such a situation.

The creature was visibly enjoying the human’s inner battle to keep his religious walls up, and Bobby wished he could exorcise that demon who kept attacking the other’s faith and unburying every one of his memories of abandonment and loss in order to bring on the hate and angriness he had been fighting to keep inside him.

Watching that conversation was like being in a nightmare, for Bobby knew exactly how it ended, and he knew there was nothing he could do to prevent it.

When the demon mentioned deals, the tailor raised his drink in a mocking toast, got it all down in one go and dismissed the idea as if it was not worth neither of their times.

The demon’s face hardened again, and a flash of black appeared in its eyes.

Bobby felt the tailor’s mind enter overdrive.

He had witnessed his mother do her tricks. He had helped her in some occasions. He knew evil existed and could be summoned. 

Well, the darkness of his own heart was proof that evil was very real. 

Bobby felt his shoulders fall. 

If there was one thing that could convince that human of how undeserving he was of any blessing or chance of better things, it was hinting that evil was infinitely more powerful than him.

Someone who had been fighting desires he was taught were shameful, and was on the edge of losing the battle every time, would surely feel the hit.

That was a low blow – as expected from a demon. 

The creature spoke of having a way out, for a small price, if the human just asked. 

The tailor got up, again, but this time it was a defensive maneuver.

He wanted to leave that place and forget he had ever heard those things.

He had rejected many proposals, in his life. He could reject that one.

However, it was the first time something like that was offered to him.

He was tempted.

The demon smirked and said he would be waiting, and the tailor stormed off.

Bobby closed his eyes.

When he opened them again, he was in a crossroads.

It was night, Fergus had just finished burying a box, and now was standing, trying to wipe off his trembling hands on his pants.

Bobby approached the man, feeling both of their desperations – one who knew he was taking a life-changing decision that was a sentence of a horrible death, too, and the other who knew this had happened centuries ago and nothing could be done.

The demon appeared, this time with a cold and arrogant face.

Bobby clenched his fists: the bastard knew he had a better hand, now, and he would take advantage from the lost soul in front of him.

The tailor spoke.

He formulated, in a very small voice, a vague wish for a better life.

The demon approached with a joyful gait, reached out to adjust the human’s shirt as if he cared for the man’s appearance and argued that things must be stated more clearly, that there were dangers for both parts if a seal was not detailed enough, and that the customer’s happiness was his highest priority.

Bobby stood beside the tailor following eagerly what was going on in his mind.

The man didn’t know what he wanted. He had spent days and nights trying to formulate a wish, but he felt ashamed of everything that occurred to him.

He could ask for money, but it wouldn’t solve his inner pain.

He could ask to not have the wrong desires, or even any desires, but he feared that his life would be empty without the fight he had been facing since his teens. Besides, he had hopes of some form of redemption, and rejecting sin over and over was an honorable path.

Bobby was shocked that the Crowley he had met could have been that man once – a man who, even when thinking of selling his soul, would not do it for some completely egotistical reason.

He wondered what Hell could have done to change him so drastically and make him a cynical and perverted plotter.

Bobby realized Fergus had a great soul. 

So great that a crossroads demon was going out of his way to get it.

So great, in fact, that the said demon was pretending not to be that interested, to keep the bargain going and not risking the human realized he had something so valuable in him. 

The tailor thought of his mother. Some hours ago he had decided his wish was to know if she was dead or alive and, if she was alive, he wanted to meet her again and ask her why she didn’t come back for him. However, he gave up when he realized the answer would probably not be any of the ones he had imagined through the years – that she had been forced to leave and stay away, that she had been thinking of protecting him. 

The answer would probably be that she simply didn’t love him.

Bobby saw those damn silent tears fall and he closed his eyes, trying to keep his own in check.

When he opened his eyes again, they were still in the same moment.

The silence stretched.

The demon resumed talking.

He said something about helping out a pretty soul offering him the best of deals: the ability to seduce people and get any favors from them. The demon spoke of the amount of power it entailed and, at the same time, at the sheer simplicity of it.

Bobby felt the turmoil in the human’s mind.

Power was not what he wanted. 

Deep inside, he just wanted to know why everybody hated him. Why everybody left or died. Why he had always been so wrong and unworthy of any love.

Bobby got himself saying out loud that those things were not true, that everybody deserved to be loved and that sometimes bad things just happen because you’re a poor unlucky chap in a small town, born in a dysfunctional family and having to fend for yourself since forever.

He said that those same things had happened to him, and there is always a way.

But the man couldn’t hear him. All he could hear were the million voices – his mother’s, the people in the market, some religious men, the neighbors’ – telling him he was useless and rooted in evil.

So, he nodded, agreeing to sell his soul for something he hadn’t really asked and deciding, like it had been since forever, to accept what Fate gave him.

The demon grinned in its disturbing way and congratulated the tailor for what he considered a great decision.

And then, to Bobby’s shock, he said the deal must be sealed through intercourse.

The tailor froze.

He opened his mouth to say something – maybe to question it, maybe to take back the deal, he wasn’t sure and no one will never know – but the demon flicked his wrist and the human was turned around, his pants fell and he had his hands forced down to his knees, putting him in an uncomfortable kind of crouching position, his rear exposed towards the creature.

Bobby watched, horrified, when the human lowered his head at the other’s superior power, resigned to whatever happened.

The tailor flinched but didn’t say a word when the demon inserted a finger into him, coated with a strange substance that helped the invasion.

He gasped in surprise at the almost gentle exploration. 

He had done it with his own hand, he had asked for it from his late wife, he had recently paid a whore to do it, but it felt different, this time.

It was a demon. The creature felt warm inside him, and obviously knew very well what to do to make it pleasurable.

And then the fingers were gone and the tailor felt a chest pressed against his back and a penetration that was not exactly gentle, anymore, but didn’t feel bad at all.

When the thrusts started, the human rolled his eyes in pleasure.

It was exactly what he had wanted for so many years.

It was good and it hurt a bit but then it was incredible and he just wanted more.

He hated that it was happening in a dark and cold night, in the middle of a crossroad, with an evil creature, but it was wonderful and it went through his mind that it was the worst sin of them all, and that he was lost in it because he probably had the worst soul one could have.

Bobby would have thrown up if he had a real body.

Someone who didn’t know love and caring related pleasure to sin and evil.

That was not just unfair. It was cruel.

The demon intensified his movements, growling, and then laughed maniacally when he finished inside the human.

The tailor was still dealing with that liquid hotness when he was harshly turned around to face the creature.

The demon looked at him up and down, smirking at the still hard human under his grasp, and asked if there were any regrets or taking backs.

Bobby realized that was a trick. The demon was offering a last way out without being clear about it.

The tailor, mind still hazed by arousal and not getting exactly what was asked of him, blinked some times and made a confused face.

The demon asked more directly if the deals was still on.

The tailor nodded without thinking, not getting exactly why he was asked that after all was done.

The demon grinned, patted the tailor’s cheek patronizingly and joined their lips.

And that was when the deal was really sealed, with the human grunting and struggling at what Bobby knew was the strange sensation of something being written with fire in your skin.

The demon vanished, leaving the human alone to deal with a surprisingly big and hard penis, and the scare of now having an unpredictable amount of power in his hands.

Bobby blinked.

He was very surprised to find himself in a well-furnished room.

A heated argument was going on between the tailor, now a man in his early forties, and a guy Bobby recognized as Gavin McLeod – he had met Crowley’s son, who died when his ship sank in the way to America, when he invoked his spirit to find out things about his father.

Now his father was yelling at him, throwing at his face that he was an ingrate and didn’t respect the one who had given him everything.

Gavin yelled back, speaking of an absent father who thought he could buy his son with his dirty money and some thoughtless gifts after years of neglect.

Bobby remembered that the boy hated his father, so he stood beside him to get his thoughts and understand the situation better.

Gavin thought of his father as a rich and feared man in their community, after being just a poor tailor who left his child to wander the village, in a childhood spent in whatever house would receive him. 

He knew something must have happened when Fergus McLeod, some years ago, suddenly changed from a quiet man and miserable alcoholic to an outgoing man and rich alcoholic.

He supposed it was some kind of witchery, or maybe a demon deal – if his father hurry into getting him to assume responsibilities related to their properties was a good hint that he just had a couple of years ahead – and wanted nothing with it.

The argument escalated even more, with the son stating he was leaving and that was final, and with the father proffering some empty menaces, once they were not close enough for him to have any real power over his own kid. 

At some point the man asked why the boy even cared to go talk to him if he had his decision taken, and the boy answered he just wanted to say goodbye.

That took the tailor by surprise, and he fell silent.

Bobby focused on Fergus’ mind. 

The man was hit with the realization that his son was leaving as his own mother had left, but that at least he wanted to do it with a proper farewell.

He had been right, in the end. The boy grew up better without him.

Maybe he should just let go.

Getting the lack of reaction as a sign that they were done, Gavin shook his head indignantly and stormed off.

The tailor, now by himself, sat in one of his expensive armchairs. 

Bobby walked to crouch in front of him.

The tailor wanted to hate his son. The boy made him feel things, and he didn’t want to feel things. He was given ten years to get what he wanted from anyone, and having feelings would just get in the way.

Besides, his soul was already damned. Maybe it was for the best that his child went away to have a new life, in the New World. 

That was what he had wanted since forever, wasn’t it? That the boy could get free of the McLeod curse? 

Maybe, in the end, his Fate was to be by himself until he died and went to Hell to suffer what he deserved.

The tailor lowered his head and let the silent tears fall. 

Bobby cried with him, knowing exactly what was going to happen.

That man was going to spend the rest of his ten years pretending he was having the best of times, and then drinking himself to a stupor when the memory of his losses hurt too much.

Bobby knew how that went. Had been there, had done that, including the demon’s deal – even if for different reasons and with a different ending, he had considered his own soul not worth much.

When death finally came for the unfortunate tailor, with Hellhounds dragging him downside in the ten years’ mark, it would be welcomed.

 

Xxx

 

When Bobby finished his tale, there was silence.

When Fergus spoke, he had the saddest eyes, ‘So, you saw it all’.

‘Yeah’, Bobby said, his own eyes filled with regret, ‘Didn’t intend to, but it doesn’t matter. I was sent there. I saw it’.

Fergus nodded and looked away.

Bobby respected his moment, giving him time to let the info set in.

‘That’s why you didn’t mind staying so close or seeing me as Fergus, and not Crowley’, the man spoke again, ‘Because your last news of me had been everything about my human life’.

‘They showed me the worst parts’, Bobby contradicted softly, ‘I know there’s a lot more about you’.

‘Maybe now. But then, you must not fool yourself – my existence was just a long string of bad luck and poor decisions’.

‘I don’t think you went so bad, given the circumstances’.

Fergus forced himself to look at Bobby, ‘There’s no excuse for the path I chose’.

‘It’s useless to discuss who or what is to blame’, Bobby said, ‘The angels wanted me to learn that Heaven was the kind of reward some people didn’t have the chance to get, you know? They wanted me to recognize I had been blessed with a pretty soul and deserved to go upstairs, while a guy like you had what you deserved’, he scooted a bit closer to the other man, ‘But what I saw was a tough guy who fought to be good until the last moment – even when he knew it wouldn’t save him’.

‘You’re generous, Robert’.

‘And you must accept that sometimes things are so shitty a person has no chance of getting over whatever is pulling them down’, he reached out for Fergus’ hands, ‘You did what you could with what you had. And you did it so good that some of that stayed in the demon I met – the guy who would flirt and be playful just to embarrass me and then give my legs for no reason’.

Fergus smiled, moved, ‘Now I’m not sure if I should be ashamed at being so exposed to someone as wonderful as you or relieved at being so exposed to someone as wonderful as you’.

Bobby grinned, leaning in closer, ‘It takes one wonderful guy to recognize another’.

‘What a gentleman’, Fergus answered, relaxing a bit and leaning to meet Bobby halfway for a tender kiss.

‘I hope you get now why I was so riled up at your mother’, Bobby spoke when they parted, ‘Or why I didn’t know if getting intimate would be ok with you, after all you’ve gone through as a human’.

‘Yes, now I get it all’, Fergus’s mouth curved up in a smirk, ‘And I get why you were so eager to hug me since the first day you were back’.

‘Yeah, that too. It felt like I had been waiting centuries to hug you’, Bobby made that cute and hesitant face, ‘When you mentioned that you knew my memories because you had seen them in my soul, and you seemed embarrassed that you could be intruding when you talked about it, all I could think was that I had seen your memories, too, and that I was not telling, and it felt weird and wrong’.

‘It felt weird and wrong because you’re perfect, love’, Fergus now grinned openly, in that adoring way that never failed to lift a heavy weight from Bobby’s heart, ‘I think we’re even, don’t you? We both have seen more than human eyes should and left to deal with that for decades’.

‘At least we’re having the chance to deal with it together, now’.

‘It’s quite good for a former demon and a hunter who came back from the dead’. 

‘Yeah, we’re even, this is quite good…’, Bobby squinted, ‘…but don’t say ever again that I came from the dead. I feel like a zombie’.

‘Sorry, pet’, Fergus grinned and knelt on the bed, taking off his shirt, ‘Let me show you how much I appreciate you being as healthy and beefy as you are’.

Bobby raised his brows, eyes following the other’s joyful moves eagerly, ‘You’re ready for a new round?’

‘I’m not sure. Being human doesn’t do wonders for my stamina’, Fergus threw the shirt away and started on his own pants, ‘But I’d contentedly just lay beside you, skin to skin, if you’ll allow me’, he took off the pants, threw them carelessly away with his boxers and crawled until he was unceremoniously pushing Bobby into the mattress to cover his body with his own naked one.

They faced each other – Fergus smirking seductively, Bobby staring like a hypnotized pray.

Fergus leaned down for one of those demanding kisses that had been the hunter’s undoing in the garage.

‘We can keep like this, darling’, he murmured between smooches, ‘Until you want something more’.

‘Help me with my clothes’.

‘Why, Robert’, Fergus teased while going for the pants while Bobby started to unbutton his shirt hurriedly, ‘Who’s the eager one, now?’

‘Don’t get your hopes up. I’m just not the creepy guy who gets off on naked people rubbing off on me’.

‘I’ll keep in mind that rubbing off on you is enough for you to want to tear your clothes apart’.

‘You could phrase it better’.

‘I would if I wanted to’, Fergus laid on his side on the bed, a hand exploring Bobby’s chest and hungry eyes on the hardening erection, ‘You’re so handsome’.

Bobby moved to be on his side, too, and started touching himself, ‘You too’, he smirked at the other’s open mouth, ‘But my eyes are over here’.

‘Sorry’, Fergus licked his lips, making the necessary effort to look up, ‘It’s too much to take in’.

Bobby sneaked an arm behind Fergus’ head and put a hand on the other’s chest, ‘Lay down on your back’, when Fergus obeyed, he raised the former demon’s leg closer to him, supporting it on his hip and rubbed his erection on the now exposed hole, ‘Just give me some minutes and I’ll be ready’.

Fergus bit his lower lip, his eyes darkening in arousal, ‘This is quite nice, already’, he adjusted to have more of his back against Bobby’s chest and stomach, ‘Being in your arms feels perfect’.

‘Uhum’, Bobby spoke close to that spot behind his ear, ‘But you said you couldn’t wait to have me inside’.

Fergus didn’t manage an answer.

He leaned his head, asking silently for a kiss, and Bobby complied.

The battle of tongues and the head of the cock rubbing against the eager ring of muscle was too much for both of them, and soon the former demon was reaching out for lube in a closer cabinet.

When the hunter entered him, Fergus let out a long low moan of relief, his body relaxing in the arms of his lover.

They kept kissing while Bobby found the perfect rhythm in and out, his hand stroking Fergus’s cock leisurely.

Fergus caressed Bobby’s beard and messed with his hair with one hand (as if his best answer to the overwhelming sensations was to touch his partner lovingly), while the other grabbed the sheets fiercely to gather some control and not whimper at the shots of pleasure coursing through him. 

When Bobby nipped at the side of his neck, his beard tickling at his most sensitive spot, Fergus grabbed the hand in his cock to enlace their fingers and keep their joined hands on his stomach.

Bobby thought the man wanted to halt things for a while, but to his surprise and delight, Fergus started moving his hips in circles, taking him all in deeply.

His ragged breathing and desperate moans filled the air between them while he took matters into his hands without really needing any hands involved.

When Fergus came, the sight of his body tensing and his release happening like that, with his load surging in convulsive uncontrolled spurts, he triggered Bobby’s climax. 

The former demon still swayed his hips hungrily when both were done, what made the hunter shiver, chuckle and rest his forehead on the other’s temple, ‘Jesus, you are a tease’.

‘You feel too good to not drink you to the last drop, love’.

Bobby nuzzled the other’s hair, his breathing still not back to normal.

Fergus moved to have the cock slip off of him, lowered his leg, settling comfortably on his back and pecked Bobby’s lips, that adoring face there for anyone to see.

The hunter stayed on his side, an arm over their head, the other resting on Fergus’ stomach, close to his semen in what was a strangely intimate touch, ‘Thank you for giving me a chance’.

‘Oh, Robert. I thought I would be the one asking for it’.

‘That’s because you’re an idjit’, he smiled, ‘I love you, you know?’ 

Fergus gasped as if he had been hit.

‘You don’t have to say it back’, Bobby added, ‘And you’ll never have to prove anything, or do anything, because it’s just about who you are’, his hand rested over the other’s heart, ‘You always deserved to be loved and, sorry about that, but I’m the one you have to settle with’.

‘Bollocks’, Fergus turned to Bobby and hid his face in the crook between shoulder and neck, nestling on him and mumbling something incomprehensible just for the hunter to hear.

‘I know, Princess’, Bobby smiled, hugging the man in his arms tightly, ‘I know’.


	13. The Real Us

When Fergus woke up, first thing he felt was the warm and furry body spooning him.

He smiled to himself.

He totally could wake up every morning to that feeling of safeness and worriless contentment.

Second thing he felt was the pesky human need to go to the bathroom.

He moved to free himself of the iron grip around his waist.

‘Wher’ya think ya’re goin’?’, Bobby murmured, half-asleep.

‘The facilities, love’.

‘Uhm’, the hunter let go, ‘Good luck’.

Fergus chuckled and, once free, turned and leaned for a parting peck on the other’s cheek, ‘Good morning’.

Bobby grinned, eyes closed.

Fergus realized such a spontaneous show of trust and joy towards him was one of the rarest and cutest things he had ever seen in his entire existence.

Yes, he totally could wake up to this, every single morning.

 

xxx

 

When he came back from the bathroom (luckily, all rooms were suites, in the bunker), naked after a very welcomed shower (human sex was messy), Fergus found Bobby still on the bed.

However, the hunter was lying down with his clothes on, seemingly waiting while ready to start the day.

Fergus raised his brows at him.

‘Am I overdressed?’, Bobby asked, staring back.

‘No, sweetheart. You’re just fine’, Fergus smiled and went to the closet to pick one of his black t-shirts, ‘There were times when the vision of plaid would give me a headache, but those are long gone’, he chose one and put it on, ‘Nowadays plaid is like a street sign to paradise’.

Bobby chuckled, ‘You say the strangest things’, he sat on the bed, ‘Hungry?’

‘Yes’, Fergus picked some cargo pants.

‘Guessed so’.

‘In fact, I showered with the intention of being presentable while I prepared something to bring here’.

‘I’m going with you’.

Fergus passed his fingers through his damp hair as a finishing touch, ‘When I left you seemed in some deep sleep’.

‘Yeah, but I’m not a sleepy-head’, Bobby answered, and now that Fergus had turned to him, he realized the other man’s eyes were looking at him from head to toe, and his speech, quite distracted, ‘The running water and the empty bed woke me up’.

Fergus frowned, confused, ‘Robert? Is there any problem?’

‘With what?’

‘I don’t know. For a moment it looked like you were disapproving my fashion sense’, Fergus approached the bed, ‘Or this is the moment when I find out you’re a jealous boyfriend who is going to forbid me to show my forearms outside the bedroom’.

‘Don’t joke about abusive relationships, please’, Bobby answered, moving to sit at the edge of the bed and reaching out a hand until his fingers’ grasped Fergus’, ‘We’ll never let anything like that happen to you, ever again’.

‘You are right, love. I’m sorry. I said things like that for centuries as if it were meaningless, but I compromise on changing the habit’, Fergus let himself be pulled, so his waist was circled by Bobby’s arms, the hunter resting his head on his stomach.

‘You’ll tell me if I do something stupid, won’t you? If I don’t treat you right?’

‘You’re the less stupid person I ever met’, Fergus caressed Bobby’s hair, ‘You don’t have to worry about me in what concerns our relationship. However, I promise I’ll speak up, if it gives you some peace of mind’.

‘It does’, Bobby lifted the black t-shirt to press kisses on the stomach, ‘Thinking better, I have ways to get you to spill things out. I really shouldn’t worry’.

Fergus giggled at the beard tickling him, ‘A Caring Bear who tries to sound menacing? That’s-’, he gasped when Bobby’s hand moved to open the button and the zipper in his pants, ‘What are you doing?’

‘Hungry’.

‘I thought we were going for breakfast’.

‘Don’t want to wait’.

Two dexterous hands pulled Fergus’ pants down and, while one went to his lower back to keep him close, the other grabbed his cock to put it in an eager mouth.

‘Robert, I… You don’t have to-’, Fergus groaned at a very well used tongue, ‘Where did you learn to do it?!’

‘Research…’, Bobby kept on, the hand on the lower back going even lower until a buttock was palmed, ‘…and you’.

‘Oh, dear’, Fergus moved his hips in small circles, not able to control his reactions, ‘Should we move back to bed?’

‘No need to’, Bobby looked up, smirking, ‘This is just a morning gift’, he licked his lips, ‘Relax and take what you’re given, honey’.

 

Xxx

 

When they reached the kitchen, mot much time later, Fergus still was a bit dazed.

First, because it was the first time they left his room after becoming officially a couple, and it was like stepping on a new world.

Second, because Bobby held his hand as soon as the door closed behind them, not the least worried that they could bump into someone. 

And then, there was the fact that he had just orgasmed and Bobby didn’t.

The hunter had stated he wanted things exactly like that for the time being. Fergus found it strange, but didn’t discuss it.

When they reached the kitchen he understood. 

He could feel the sexual energy emanating from the hunter – the desire was there, drumming just under the skin like a soul pulsating towards what it wanted.

Fergus just was able to focus on preparing breakfast because he was really hungry. In any other situation he would stop everything to grab the man and go down on him until he came right there, pressed against the fridge.

Bobby seemed to be having fun at the situation, for he kept obviously teasing: he moved around Fergus to pick things, he offered help while brushing his chest on his back and speaking very close to his ear, he touched him unnecessarily, he stole kisses at each item he was asked to fetch and put on the table.

When they sat down in front of each other to eat their grilled cheeses, they fell silent momentarily, being both famished.

When the conversation was resumed, it was light and trivial. Both seemed to have managed to somewhat calming sown and were content to share the peaceful moment.

They were almost finished with their coffee mugs when Bobby stated, ‘We’ll have to make an announcement’.

‘About what?’

‘About buying stronger coffee next time’, Bobby huffed, ‘About us, idjit’.

‘It’s not like people are not very unto us, already, love’.

The hunter frowned, ‘You’re not fucking me behind their backs and pretending nothing changed at their faces’.

‘That’s not what I meant’, Fergus smiled foolishly at Bobby being annoyed at the notion of keeping their relationship secret, ‘I just didn’t foresee you wanting to, you know, name it and all’.

‘You called me your boyfriend this morning’, Bobby scowled, ‘I’m not carrying that burden all by myself’.

‘All right’, Fergus chuckled, ‘Announcement it is’, he was still grinning when he got up from the table, ‘I just wonder how much time it would take for them to realize we had…’, he halted in realization, then proceeded, excited, ‘Can we just wait some days? That could be so fun! I bet they would-’

‘No’, Bobby got up, too, ‘I’m calling Jody, you’re inviting your mother for a dinner or lunch or whatever, and we’re telling the people who live with us as soon as possible’.

Fergus rolled his eyes, grunted ‘Aye, Sir’ under his breath, picked their plates and turned to the sink, ‘But I want a reason for me telling my mother in person while you can just do it to the Sheriff though a phone call’, he cleaned the crumbs and started washing, ‘It’s not fair’.

Suddenly, the broad chest was pressed against his back, and something definitively getting hard was against his ass, ‘You’re right. We do it all together’, he watched those familiar big hands put the mugs on the sink and the strong arms encircle his waist, ‘But we’re doing it’, the hard thing rubbed against his buttocks, ‘You hear me?’

‘Yes, love, I hear you’, Fergus gulped down, ‘May you help me a bit?’ 

A kiss was planted on the side of his neck, ‘What do you need?’

‘First of all, some space between us, so I can finish this as quick as possible’, Fergus leaned his head forward when the lips teased his nape, ‘Robert… I don’t think it’s safe to stay here if you keep doing that’.

‘All right’, Bobby answered without really moving, ‘But one day we’ll stay right here and I’ll do you while you do that’.

A new voice sounded from the door, ‘If no one finds out later, I’m ok’.

It was Mary, watching them from the kitchen doors.

Bobby had the classic deer-in-the-headlights look.

Fergus just facepalmed.

(The fact they couldn’t really move without exposing their obvious erections was the cherry on top of the awkwardness.)

‘I think they are embarrassed’.

Of course, Castiel would be there, too.

Fergus breathed deeply, finished the mugs, dried his hands, adjusted his pants and turned to the woman and the angel with an admirable poker face (that was really comical because it contrasted so strongly with Bobby’s still terrified one), ‘Do you have any questions, children? If you don’t, we’re going back to my room to be mortified in peace’.

Mary pressed her lips to not laugh, then spoke in all seriousness she managed, ‘May we tell Sam and Dean?’

‘I think you may’, Fergus said, then turned his head to Bobby, who was staying timidly behind him, trying to deal with his own situation, ‘What do you think, love?’

‘Yeah, of course’, the hunter cleared his throat, ‘It’s a favor you do to us’.

‘It is going to be entertaining’, Castiel pondered, then grinned, ‘Thank you. And congratulations’.

Mary nodded, agreeing, ‘It was about time’.

The new couple got twin happy smiles, and Bobby sneaked a hand to grab Fergus’, ‘We’ll call Jody and his mother as soon as possible’.

‘And the Pope, and some relevant news stations we’re still selecting’.

Fergus mocked with no real heat, but Bobby wouldn’t let it go, ‘Yeah, he’s a picky one’.

Fergus had the perfect answer to embarrass Bobby on the tip of his tongue – something about being so picky that he just could have chosen someone as perfect as his hunter, but an exchanged heated glance was enough for him to realize they needed, urgently, to be by themselves.

So, he started walking, pulling the other man with him, ‘See you later, people’.

 

Xxx

 

When they reached the bedroom, Fergus was prepared to help Bobby to deal with the fact they had been seen in a very compromising position.

However, as soon as they entered, Bobby locked the door, pulled Fergus towards him for a demanding kiss and started pulling his t-shirt up.

‘Maybe you think we should discuss what happened’, the hunter said when they parted for the t-shirt to pass the shorter man’s head, ‘But I’m still horny and what is done, is done’.

‘I like the way you think’, Fergus threw his arms over the hunter’s shoulders, ‘No time to spend in trivialities’.

Bobby pushed him to the bed, where he finished taking off Fergus’ clothes and straddled his thighs, ‘I want to suck you again’.

‘Really?’, Fergus asked in a trembling voice, once the man spoke and moved to lay comfortably on his legs, the larger frame keeping his lower half pressed against the mattress.

Sometimes Bobby was deliciously dominant and teasing. The way he gazed into Fergus’ eyes while with his mouth so close to the head of his cock, pretending he was waiting for an authorization both knew he already had, was maddening.

‘I liked it’, a delicate lick, ‘You taste good’, blue eyes settled on greenish ones, ‘And maybe this time you manage to last longer’.

‘You didn’t seem interested in helping me to last’.

‘It’s nice to see you squirming’, a kiss on the tip, ‘Not a shadow of control’, a lick that started on the base and made all the way up slowly and wetly, extracting a moan, ‘Think you can keep it on for some time? So we can have more fun?’

‘Is this a challenge?’, Fergus focused on controlling his altered breathing, ‘Because, if it is, I don’t see the slightest chance of me winning’.

‘Everybody wins, here, Princess, anyway’, Bobby smirked, ‘Just wanted you to know we have plenty of options’, he took Fergus’ penis in his mouth and let it go with a pop, ‘Slow, fast, hard, soft. We can have anything we want’.

The former demon watched, mesmerized, while the hunter took the cock in his mouth, again, using tongue and a bit of teeth to play with it, seemingly enjoying how it reacted, pulsing as if with a life of its own.

Fergus moaned.

He loved when Bobby took control.

He didn’t mind being pudding in the man’s hands (and mouth). He felt safe, they trusted each other and God, that man was hot.

Fergus was so engaged that he didn’t realize he had started moaning a bit louder than decorum indicated.

‘Hey, honey’, Bobby called his attention gently, ‘Be a good boy and suck a finger or something. Don’t want people bashing in thinking I’m hurting you’, he massaged Fergus’ balls, ‘I promise to give you something to suck as soon as I’m done here’, a kiss on the skin behind the balls, so intimate and easygoing it was kind of shocking, ‘Deal?’

Fergus nodded, not able to speak, and started sucking his thumb.

‘That’s it’, Bobby smiled, his eyes dark with desire, ‘Beautiful’.

As promised, Bobby sucked until Fergus came and, once the shorter man had been able to keep relatively silent, the hunter moved to kneel by the side of his head, leaning to fuck his mouth slowly. 

It didn’t take long for Bobby to come, too. He had been cultivating his arousal for hours, now, and the sight of a relaxed Fergus, taking him while enjoying his afterglow was really hot. 

They exchanged some loving words afterwards, lazy and tender, and spent the rest of the morning entwined in bed.

 

Xxx

 

Next time everybody got together (some hours later, in the war room), Sam grinned and hugged Bobby and Fergus, congratulating them warmly.

Dean clapped Bobby’s shoulder and pointed a finger silently at Fergus, his best ‘I’ll kill you if you hurt him’ face in place.

Bobby rolled his eyes, growled something along the lines of being treated like a defenseless princess and exited the room to fetch some reading material for them to work on.

Fergus stayed, amused at Dean’s snickering and the others’ resigned scolding reactions.

It seemed Squirrel couldn’t miss the opportunity to tease people, and Fergus was now, people, to him.

More than that: he was his people.

For years he had wished Dean Winchester would see him as a friend – as a brother – and suddenly it was happening. 

It was more than accepting him in the bunker, more than including him in the routines and calling him with information or when he was hurt and needed a hand; it was trusting him with his surrogate father – one of the people who was more precious to him. 

So, Fergus was forced to accept that he belonged.

Finally.

 

Xxx

 

Fergus and Bobby called Jody and Rowena, as agreed.

The women had very different reactions, as expected.

 

xxx

 

The Sheriff demanded a video call as soon as they told her the news on the phone, and the girls plus Donna (just their luck she was visiting) joined her to talk to them. 

The Wayward Sisters were almost jumping in excitement and imposed a dinner, in Jody’s house, to celebrate what they insisted on calling ‘The Engagement’.

People were sincerely happy for them, babbling about how cute they were and joking that it was the ultimate alliance between Hell and Heaven.

The couple accepted the offer of an engagement dinner, warmed by the loving reactions.

 

Xxx

 

Rowena was silent for a long moment after Fergus told her through the phone that she had been right when she said there was more than friendship between him and ‘Mister Singer’. 

He got worried at the lack of response – not usual for his mother to be speechless – and started asking if she was all right when she suddenly spoke.

She demanded to talk to her ‘son-in-law’.

Her seemingly sincere and warm words welcoming Robert Singer to the McLeod family were some of the most terrifying and out of character things Fergus had ever heard.

Robert reddened and had a cute smile on his face while he listened to the witch, what melted the Scot’s heart and helped him forgive his mother for being such a wee frightening being.

 

Xxx

 

Jody invited Rowena to the dinner. 

The witch not just accepted, but helped with the expenses – the champagne, for example, was all on her – and she behaved all night long, to everybody’s relief.

Everybody but Jody, in fact, because Claire was obviously smitten by Rowena’s charming personality, and it put girl in a crisis, being her a hunter at the heart and not knowing how to deal with a sudden empathy for a witch.

The girl had, obviously, stated it in front of everyone, during dinner.

Castiel believed it was a very important issue and turned to Claire with his most worried expression.

Dean had, obviously, to calm his angel down, and did it stating it was a common problem, pointing to Bobby and saying some people had ‘sympathy for the devil’.

Sam snorted in repressed laugh at the couple’s twin offended faces.

Rowena lifted a glass of champagne, ‘Well, thank you, dearies. It’s good to know I still have it’.

Fergus shrugged and lifted his own glass to answer to his mother’s toast, ‘Well, me too’.

Everybody laughed at their shenanigans. 

The Sheriff huffed, ‘Damn McLeods!’, she picked her own glass to join the toast, glaring accusingly to mother and son, ‘Why so charming?!’


	14. Intimacy

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Last chapter.  
> We are going to have an epilogue, after this.  
> Thank you to everyone who has been with me.

Fergus didn’t need much time in a relationship with Bobby to realize the hunter had a strong sex-drive. 

However, it took the former demon some time to accept that it was not a general sex-drive, but one directed completely at him.

Bobby’s habit of touching him, for example, had made him feel like a dirty minded dick who read sexual intentions where there were innocent supportive and protective touches.

Now he knew the hunter did those things to send him greenlights and have some release from his own repressed desire.

Fergus had considered some activities – keeping Bobby company while he studied an old car, wrestling, stalking a suspect – a kind of very sweet torture he subjected himself to in order to stay close to the man he loved.

Now he knew the interest had been mutual, and that Bobby had been on edge, waiting for him to make a move.

So, as soon as they started the new stage of their relationship, being in the same room by themselves escalated, sooner or later, to unabashed intimacy.

 

Xxx

 

Sam had dubbed their closeness ‘sexy times’.

The giant, even when mocking them, was always gentle about their relationship, even when he caught them in some compromising situation (or position).

Dean and Mary, however, had a habit of yelling whatever came to their minds to break the moment and make sure the couple regretted being so passionate and careless in public spaces.

Castiel had chosen, unsurprisingly, to follow Dean’s example: the angel would speak loudly about random subjects and look anywhere but at them, when he caught them.

The general idea was to keep on pretending to be distracted until it was safe to assume Bobby had stopped the more evident harassment and Fergus had stopped treating his partner as if he was a work of Art.

 

Xxx

 

Of course, they tried to keep things low profile. 

Bobby was as far from an exhibitionist as someone could be, and Fergus didn’t enjoy his hunter’s embarrassment as he used to when he was a demon. However, intimacy was so easy between them that they acted like teenagers going through their first love and forgot they shared living spaces with other people. 

In his defense, Fergus had never had someone whom he could take for granted in a positive way – someone he could be sure would still love and want him for what he was, not depending on circumstances or status. He wasn’t really able to deny himself the pleasure of feeling loved, now that he had it. 

In his defense, Bobby didn’t think he would ever find someone who completed him like that. Karen had been special in her own way – in a different timeframe, with a different mindset –, but the things he had found out and gone through since her death changed him into someone who fitted perfectly with Fergus.

They were similar, even if very different, and it made them a complete match.

 

Xxx

 

Bobby would probably deny it with all his forces, but the truth was that he could be the most tender of creatures. 

It was clear in the way he looked deeply into Fergus’ eyes and stayed close in comfortable silence, reassuring the other man through his attention and presence that their companionship was a bless and their happiness was not an illusion.

And, still, sometimes he was a savage.

He whispered in Fergus’ ear that they fitted together in a lot of ways besides the metaphorical (and proceeded to describe them colorfully), he nuzzled his neck, he turned pecks on the lips in deep kisses with lots of tongue, he shamelessly landed a hand in any spot of the other’s body he wished. 

Either way, the former demon had no complaints at all. Being pampered or ravished by Bobby was his description of a good time.

 

Xxx

 

To their luck, one of them was very good at mixing work and pleasure, and that’s why they were able to accomplish any watch-outs and stalkings, after they got together.

Things usually started as they always did since they had been working together: they would chat and laugh and have a good time while keeping their eyes on whatever they had been designed to.

However, at some point Bobby looked at Fergus fondly, his eyes inviting, and at the former demon’s immediate positive response, he opened his trousers shamelessly. 

Fergus loved giving his partner a blowjob, and being in a public space – and not a room in a bunker that often felt crowded – was exciting.

Bobby would keep silent, eyes on the mission. The only signs he was having the time of his life were a hand caressing his partner’s hair and the ragged breathing.

He was so good at keeping focus that Fergus considered a victory if he extracted a grunt or a hand clenching in his hair. It meant the other man had lost control, and there were few things more arousing than making the ever-so-competent Robert Singer to lose himself for some moments. 

Sometimes, when Fergus was too quiet, Bobby reached out for his hand or a tender caress to his beard. When it didn’t end the subdued mood (and both new the former demon had a tendency to fall into memory lane and not recover quickly enough for his own good), the hunter’s hand turned bold and often massaged Fergus through his pants until he opened them, asking eagerly for more contact. 

Bobby gave the handjob while doing his task serenely, often with binoculars on his eyes, while Fergus had to grab whatever was closer to keep from squirming like a teenager and moaning too loud.

The smirk on the hunter’s face was infuriating but so, so, so arousing that, again, who could have any complaints?

 

Xxx

 

Doing research in the bunker still was one of their favorite ways to spend time together.

They often started working at different sides of the big map table, books and files and archives spread between them. Some complex debates on lore and translations kept them busy for hours. 

Being together didn’t change Bobby’s habit of forcing Fergus to take breaks with him. On the contrary – it seemed he had gotten more careful with their health, making sure they ate well, slept enough and didn’t skip their exercising routine.

(Yes, it meant they spent time cooking and having meals together, and even more time in bed together, and wrestling, and if those activities were especially pleasurable now that they were in an intimate relationship, well, lucky them.) 

Before, no matter where they chose to sit at the big table, at some point one or the other would get up from his chair to read something currently at the other’s hands, giving them opportunity to be closer than necessary.

Now, the concept of personal space had been erased.

At some point in their work one would drag a chair to sit by the other’s side; they would speak softly, exchanging smiles while sharing information.

People mocked them, but it was obvious they had a calming effect on each other. As the days went by and their relationship gained more and more layers, the less people saw tense Bobby and explosive Fergus.

Sometimes Bobby – the one who had been a hermit and now had a crazy sex-drive, the one who was open to sex and shows of affection with his partner in any circumstances – would circle Fergus’ shoulders with an arm and read a text with his lips grazing the side of the former demon’s neck.

Sometimes Fergus – the one who had been a demon, the one who had in stock a lot of sexual experience but was slowly accepting that love had finally arrived for him – would reach out to turn a page that Bobby already had his hand on, so his fingers would travel on the hunter’s forearm lazily, caressing it, reaching a bearded cheek while he forgot completely the material in front of them and stared adoringly at his partner.

Those were the moments that made people want to run for the hills when witnessed and, still, there was so much love in them that no one really minded.

 

Xxx

 

Their belongings soon were split between the two bedrooms, even if they would sleep together every night in Fergus’ room.

They hadn’t talked about it, since that first night. Bobby just naturally started announcing he would fetch ‘his things’ – what meant his toothbrush and pajamas – and knock on Fergus’ door soon later, ready to stay.

The fact Bobby went to ‘his place’ made the former demon feel wanted in a strange and quite fulfilling way.

It was like he had been, for the first time in his existence, chosen by someone who wanted to share what he was and be with him wherever he was.

 

xxx

 

Some weeks in their relationship, Bobby surprised Fergus with two ideas.

The one that was accepted without a second thought happened when Bobby was in one of his ‘demanding mood’ nights.

They were in the point when he opened Fergus’ legs to settle between them, covering the other’s body with his, grabbing his wrists to press them against the mattress and kiss him possessively.

Fergus had been aware that Bobby enjoyed making him squirm in pleasure. One of the hunter’s fetishes, in fact, was to make him come first and then take possession of the body of a mind-numbing satisfied and very complying partner, if possible stalling things enough for the already sated partner to get engaged and come again.

The former demon loved it. Orgies were about coming more than once, and he had taken part in countless of them, but they had turned into unsatisfying memories of empty endeavors, now that he knew what one-on-one passionate sex felt like. 

So, that night he had relaxed on the mattress, ready to be pleasured by his hunter.

However, Bobby parted from him, closed his legs and straddled his thighs.

He joined their cocks in his hand as Fergus had done in their first time in the garage.

That felt good. Bobby was still in control, pressing him down, but it gave Fergus the opportunity of completely free hands to touch the other’s body: his hands explored the large and hairy chest, the perked nipples, the slight bulge of the stomach, the lines of the hipbones, the thick thighs.

Bobby picked the lube, spread it in his hands and used both of them to press and massage their members together, making Fergus’ legs tense in an instinctive desire to move his hips.

Their eyes locked and Bobby leaned in to peck his lips soothingly.

It was slightly annoying how much he enjoyed Fergus’ lack of control.

Annoying in the most arousing way.

After the teasing light kiss, Bobby nuzzled his cheek and murmured, ‘Wanna be inside me?’

Fergus gasped, ‘You want it?’

‘Uhum’, the nuzzling reached the neck, ‘Have been thinking about it’, teeth grazed the skin, ‘Why not to give it a try?’, a sucking that would surely cause a hickey, ‘You ok with switching?’

‘I’m ok with everything with you, love’, Fergus’ eyes rolled in pleasure and he grabbed the sheets in an attempt to some control when Bobby resumed the leisure movements with his hand, now staring at his face, tasting every trace of lust he was provoking.

‘Thank you, Princess’, he smiled in a way that made Fergus shiver and reached with a lubed hand behind himself to coat his hole.

Fergus was going to ask if he needed any assistance, but Bobby moved forward, positioned himself and started pushing the member inside. 

The motions got a long low moan from Fergus.

He licked his lips, hands on his partner’s thighs, ‘You seem to have a plan, Robert’. 

‘I said I did research’, his face was focused on the sensations, eyes closed, chest expanded in a deep breathing that was all kinds of beautiful, ‘Damn, it’s odd’.

‘We can stop, if it’s too much’, Fergus’ hands massaged Bobby’s thighs, ‘You can keep fucking me, like we always do. You know I love it’.

Fergus’ words did something to Bobby.

As soon as he finished speaking, the hunter lowered his body in a steady movement until the cock was completely buried in him.

Fergus whimpered.

Bobby fought to master his own breathing for a moment, then opened his eyes to look down, ‘Is this all right? Am I too heavy?’

‘No, love’, Fergus answered hurriedly, ‘You feel perfect’.

The hunter smiled, ‘I’m not changing my mind’.

The man under him nodded enthusiastically.

Bobby chuckled and leaned forward, slowly, testing his limits, moving his hips to spread his legs further.

Fergus, being a very accomplished and experienced sexual partner, moved his own hips lightly, knowing where to aim to acquire the desired effect.

It worked.

Bobby gasped and looked down at him, wide-eyed at the sensation.

The former demon smirked, ‘I get it something clicked into place’.

‘Oh, yeah’, Bobby started tentative circular movements, bracing himself with the fists on the sides of Fergus’ head on the mattress, ‘You found the spot’.

‘Then, have your fun’, Fergus licked his lips, ‘I’m always glad to watch you discovering new things, and you can use me anyway you wish’.

Bobby chuckled almost embarrassedly at his own reactions, ‘Perks of being with a three hundred years old guy who loves me so much’.

Fergus was fascinated by how virile that big man was, a bit shy and speaking of love, but grunting while moving his hips and experimenting a new position, pressing the body under him against the bed as if he was his owner, then straightening his back to touch himself.

It was a show.

‘I’m so close’, Bobby groaned, suddenly, ‘Wanted to last more’.

‘You can have it as many times as you wish, love’, Fergus caressed the chest above him gently, ‘Surrender to what your body is asking’.

‘You’re sappy’.

‘I’m just trying to keep some semblance of control, here, love, once you seem quite discombobulated’.

The former demon spoke and moved his hips in a new way, making Bobby let out a string of mumbled curses.

‘You’re so beautiful’, Fergus spoke with a silken voice, his hand palming Bobby’s stomach and going up, messing with the trail of hair there, and stopping over his heart, ‘Come for me, pet’.

‘Damn’, the slightly condescending tone messed with Bobby, ‘What about you?’

‘You wanted to switch, Robert’, there was a new glee on Fergus’ eyes, ‘It means I get to fuck you after you come, like you so deliciously do to me’.

‘Payback is a bitch’, Bobby gave a breathless chuckle.

‘I promise to go nice and slow, exactly like you do’, Fergus licked his lips, ‘Come on. Let me see it’.

Bobby leaned a bit back for the cock inside to press more against his prostate, ‘Lend me a hand’.

Fergus’ free hand reached out and teased the right spots to make Bobby move his hips like the whore he had seen Fergus being but didn’t think himself would be able to.

His orgasm came with a deep animalistic growl.

Fergus enjoyed the scene, making sure to anchor his overwhelmed partner, slipping off of him and pulling him securely to his arms.

He kissed Bobby’s hair and said sweet nothings while the hunter dealt with his messed breathing and aftershocks of pleasure.

Fergus put a hand on the base of his cock to stall his own orgasm, and Bobby moved to lay on his stomach, making a lazy gesture, ‘Come on’.

The sprawled body was too delicious looking to resist, and Fergus mounted him, entering him again in a competent movement that started with shallow teasing strokes.

The hunter moaned lowly, eyes closed.

‘Is this ok, love?’

‘Uhum’, Bobby rested his head in his forearms, ‘It’s nice to be on the other end and not have to do all the work’.

That made Fergus laugh and his strokes got a bit deeper.

‘So, that’s how it feels’, Bobby murmured leisurely.

‘How can you be so sedated?’, Fergus grunted, the strokes quickening, ‘At this point I’m usually a mess’.

‘A pretty whimpering mess’. 

Bobby spoke and chuckled.

That deep sound and easy attitude hit Fergus in someplace that had been burning and bubbling since they had started the making out session and now was ready to explode.

He lost control of his movements and thrusted deeper and quicker, non-stop, chest against Bobby’s back, teeth grazing a shoulder blade, hands grabbing forcefully the hips until he came inside the other man with moaned words of undying love.

He was still coming back to Earth when he heard Bobby speaking, ‘That felt good, too. The in and out thing, I mean. We may start there, next time’.

Fergus tried to answer, but he just managed a nod against the large back under him.

The hunter turned his head, trying to look at him, ‘Shower?’

‘God, from where you get the energy? I could fall asleep right here’.

‘No way, you pig. We shower, and then we sleep’, he moved his hips playfully, ‘Get off me’.

Fergus slipped off and knelt on the bed, between Bobby’s legs, ‘If you were a gentleman you would carry me’, a finger teased the hole gently, ‘After all, you were the one who worn me out’, the finger entered a bit, making the ass perk a bit in the air in pleasure, ‘Besides, you’re so much bigger and stronger’.

‘Stop it’, Bobby said, wriggling his butt.

‘Your body contradict your words’, Fergus smiled, finger slowly going in and out, ‘And you said you had enjoyed it’.

‘And I did’, Bobby moved to turn around, ‘Let me show how much of a gentleman I am, by the way’.

Fergus was wide-eyed, ‘You’re hard again?’

‘I said it felt good’, Bobby sat, eyes on the man kneeling in front of him, ‘I can’t carry you, but I can give you something you want’.

Fergus bit his lower lip, eyes in the erection.

‘I’ll wash myself and take care of this, with or without you. Wanna join me or stay here being an idjit?’

‘If it means I get you inside me’, Fergus made a hungry face, ‘Please’.

Bobby grinned and knelt, mirroring the other’s position, ‘You don’t have to plead, Princess’, he put a hand on Fergus’s nape and pulled him for a kiss, ‘I’ll always give it all to you’.

 

Xxx

 

Everybody noticed Fergus seemed suddenly even more in love with Bobby and treated him like a king, but no one asked what had changed, obviously.

Between the both of them, a new threshold of intimacy had been crossed in that night, and it was their solely business to know what that meant.

(Not that Dean wanted any details on his surrogate father’s sex life, anyway.

Sam wouldn’t mind that much, but he could deal with his curiosity.)

The only problem was that they lived with an Angel of the Lord – a being who could see souls.

Castiel not just noticed something was different, but he would stare at it with alarming intrigued eyes.

He often squinted, what made Fergus lose his temper and ask if he wanted to ‘share with the class’ what he had been looking at.

The answer was that their souls had been glowing unexpectedly bright for some days, every time they were especially fond of each other.

The angel said such a strong liaison between two non-related humans was very rare. 

It was usually present on cases of soulmates. 

 

xxx

 

The second idea Bobby brought on got Fergus off guard, and he ended up not having a ready answer.

They had been working together for hours, buried in some research in the war room and already sitting side by side, when the Scot took off his recently acquired glasses to rub his eyes tiredly.

‘Why so grumpy, honey?’

‘It’s frustrating’, he put the glasses back, ‘If I had my demonic memory these things would be already translated’.

‘Well, you can’t have your demonic memory without horns and a pointed tail’, Bobby dragged his chair closer, ‘We have stablished we’re having the best of the worlds, haven’t we?’, he rested an arm around the back of Fergus’ chair, ‘Or you’re having second thoughts? Are you baking some stupid plan to throw our life away?’

‘What an idea, Robert’, Fergus looked at the face suddenly close to his, ‘Can’t a former demon bring on a façade of grumpiness in order to remind his lover of the creature who first attracted his interest?’, he smirked, ‘Someone must keep the fire of our relationship alive’.

‘You idjit’, Bobby smiled, ‘You don’t have to remind me I found Crowley hot’, the arm moved for a hand to touch Fergus between the shoulder blades, ‘This thing of ours works because you’re still him without the evil’.

‘Hey’, he approached enough to nip at the hunter’s lower lip, ‘I can be really bad’.

‘Nah. You’re my good boy’, Bobby pressed his lips against Fergus’, then parted, ‘Speaking of that, there’s something I’ve been wanting to talk to you’.

‘I wonder what could possibly be in your mind that would require a paragraph of introduction’.

‘It’s about living here in the bunker’.

‘If you want to warn me about Dean’s wee love note’, Fergus sighed, eyes back to the file he had been studying, ‘I’m not telling Castiel. It’s the Squirrel’s place to do it’.

‘Love note?’

‘Oh, you didn’t know about it’, Fergus grinned, ‘Remind me to tell you all in our next break. It’s a very entertaining tale of repressed bro passion that I, unfortunately, stumbled upon and can’t share with the world’.

He spoke and turned a page of the file, resuming his reading.

Bobby didn’t speak.

‘Say what was it that you had in mind, love…’, Fergus said, distractedly, ‘…once it was not about your oldest indiscretions’.

Bobby cleared his throat, ‘It’s about this last string of cases’.

‘Quite mind-bogging’, Fergus agreed, scowling at the text in front of him, ‘A creature that seems so easy to kill and, still, it keeps thriving’.

‘I meant what we’re doing’.

‘We’re doing our best, given the circumstances…’

‘Fergus, can you stop babbling for a moment and pay attention to what I’m trying to say?’

He immediately let go of the file and faced his partner, surprised at the serious tone.

Bobby took off both their pairs of glasses, putting them together on the table.

Fergus frowned in confusion, ‘Is that an invitation for a deeper kiss?’

‘It can be’, Bobby leaned for a new peck, ‘But it’s my way of starting a conversation on the fact we’re getting older by the second’.

‘As everybody else’.

‘Yeah, but we have lived a lot, already’, Bobby took Fergus’ hand, ‘And we don’t know what waits ahead, this time’.

‘You mean in the next hunting or…’

‘I mean death’.

‘Woah’, Fergus put a hand over his heart, ‘What brought this up?!’

Bobby took the hand to rest with his on the table, ‘We’ve been keeping things like they always were – research, planning, hunt. Watch, get the info, pass it on’, he hesitated for a moment, ‘I’ve been thinking about it and asking myself if it’s right to us’.

Fergus gulped down, ‘You think we should be spending our time in other things?’

Bobby nodded, ‘Maybe we’re going to be together in Heaven – Cas thinks the glowing souls are a sure hint –, but the angels are dicks…’

‘Yes, they can make up some excuse to separate us’, Fergus added, ‘And even if Castiel tries to help us…’

‘…the guy spends more time trying to mend fences than really being a part of his old brotherhood’.

They nodded at each other in mutual understanding.

Bobby caressed the hand in his, ‘I think we should live a little’.

‘What are you exactly proposing, love?’

Bobby raised his brows and smiled, ‘Well, if you want to call it a proposal, that’s all right with me’.

Fergus paled, ‘Pardon?’ 

‘I think we should move’.

‘Pardon again?’

‘Don’t get me wrong. I like living here, most of the time. I have things to do and people I get along and, most of all, I have you’, the hunter leaned his head, ‘But being here is being at risk, because we keep getting involved in jobs, in a way or another’, his eyes met Fergus’, ‘And I’m getting old and scared’.

Fergus grabbed Bobby’s hand tighter, ‘I know what you mean’, he said, almost a whisper, ‘When I found myself a human, again, it took me some time to adjust and accept I didn’t have any powers. No healing, no magic, no eternal life’, he sighed, ‘I was just grousing about it, right now. It’s still kind of frustrating’.

‘So, something may happen to any of us and, knowing what we do now, we wouldn’t follow the Winchester way and sell our souls or any other stupidity to keep on’. 

Fergus nodded firmly.

‘That’s why I’ve been thinking of having our own place, and all the time to ourselves’, Bobby lowered his eyes, embarrassed, ‘Be egotistical once’.

‘No, it’s not that’, Fergus put a hand under Bobby’s chin to lift it and their eyes meet again, ‘If someone deserves to have time to himself it’s you, after a life – well, two lives – of generosity’.

Bobby squinted at him.

‘Oh, all right, I’m sorry’, Fergus hurried to correct himself, ‘We. We deserve it. We have done a lot’.

‘Better’.

They exchanged smiles.

‘So’, Bobby poked, ‘Ideas on that?’ 

Fergus breathed deeply, ‘I confess I don’t know what to say, love. It’s completely unexpected of you to want to be far from your boys. They’re your family’.

‘You’re my family, too’.

Fergus smiled, ‘I know’, he caressed Bobby’s beard, ‘However, I’m quite content, here’, he shrugged, ‘Moving from the bunker never occurred to me’.

‘Not even when we have to run to your room praying no one saw us?’

‘We can’t even pray, in fact, since that could call Castiel’s unwanted attention’.

‘You know what I mean, idjit’.

‘Yes, I do’, Fergus shook his head as if to clear it, ‘But right now all I can think of is the logistics – that we’ll be far from the bunker’s material, that people here will lose two cooks, that we’ll have to break the news, that we’ll have to wander around in search for a location…’, Fergus stopped speaking and leaned his head, as if realizing something.

‘What is it?’

‘Hunting houses instead of hunting monsters for a change seems quite fun, now that I thought of it…’

‘So…’, Bobby approached, seizing the opportunity of a day-dreaming Fergus, ‘You’re in?’

‘I suppose so’, the other answered, ‘Are you in a hurry?’

‘No. We can take things slow’, the hunter squinted, ‘But if you stall things because you’re a big old softie who is afraid of hurting the other princesses’ hearts I’ll make sure to haul your ass out of here for us to seek a nice place’. 

‘Can we have a garden?’

‘Sure’.

‘And a dog?’

‘I was thinking we could go travelling’.

‘If it’s somewhere close, we take him; if it’s too far, we can leave him here with Moose’.

‘Sam loves dogs and surely wouldn’t mind’, Bobby nodded, very serious, ‘Yeah. I’d like a dog’, he smiled, ‘I take it you’re already falling for the idea’.

‘Yes, beardy. I’ll considerate it with all my heart and newborn soul’, Fergus grabbed a fistful of plaid, ‘Maybe I already fancy the idea of showing you off to the neighborhood’.

‘Same here’, Bobby smirked and their lips met.


	15. Epilogue: We are family

For the last hours, Rowena had gone from bored to bothered, then to annoyed and furious.

Now she was starting to panic.

It’s been some time since someone managed to take her down like that.

When she was first captured, she could only focus on how humiliating it was to be tied down with magic ropes to a dirty chair in some djinn’s dungeon. She had mentally planned the painful demise of the creature, quite certain it was a matter of time for her to find a way out and wanting to have a well-thought sequence of torture for her vengeance.

Every detail she saw around her – the dirty dungeon floor ruining her dress, the filthy gag the monster put in her mouth when she tried to reason with it – just made her more creative.

However, at some point she realized the djinn hadn’t taken her by accident. He was well prepared against her tricks and had blabbed to someone out of her sight about ‘testing’ something with a powerful witch.

And that was when she started believing she may be in some deep trouble.

Now she could hear the metaphorical clock ticking. 

At any moment a vial would be put in her arm and she would be lost to the world.

And she couldn’t even count on the Winchesters, this time. They had no idea where she was – she had decided not to keep them updated on every detail of her last move. They were working together in this little plan, but it didn’t mean she had to tell them every step of hers.

And she hadn’t mention her whereabouts to Fergus and Robert, either. They were too settled down for some of her adventures with the Winchesters – an almost retired old couple, in fact.

(Well, they were too nice for most of her pursues and practices, nowadays. It was better leaving the poor boys out.)

Well, her independency had come to bit her, for now she was locked up with some lowly smarmy pretentious slug, soon to be turned into its source of food while her body rotted.

(And the worse was that the book of her death said she would die by Samuel’s hand. So, if the djinn enslaved her, she wouldn’t die – just keep like a vegetable until someday her sleeping decaying form was found and the younger Winchester gave her a merciful death.)

So, that would be her end, after going through so much: the most powerful witch alive, the one who had survived Lucifer twice, enslaved by a stupid monster!

The djinn entered the room again, this time with agitated quick steps, and Rowena wondered if that was a sign of excitement and her time had come.

However, the creature approached, checked the ropes around her, reinforced the improvised gag and ran away to the dark corridor that leaded up.

When its steps didn’t echo anymore, there was complete silence for some terrifying minutes.

And then everything went crazy.

Shots. The creature’s yells. More shots. Running steps. Things being slammed. More shots.

Silence, again.

Rowena’s eyes were glued to the corridor’s entrance. 

She was not one for praying, but she did it.

She needed help – any help. 

She needed that commotion to be a recuing mission. 

She needed some familiar face to come and save her.

She heard more hurried steps and waited, heart slamming in her chest.

Noise in the corridor.

Someone was quickly approaching.

Finally, her savior appeared.

Robert Singer.

Rowena could feel her body trembling in relief and tension, overjoyed he was the one for her, but not sure she was safe, already.

The man spotted her and immediately ran to be sure there wasn’t any vials connected to her and take off the gag, ‘How many?’

‘I saw one. But he spoke to someone’.

Bobby nodded, ‘Caught the other outside’, he moved, disappearing behind her to work hurriedly on the ropes binding her, ‘No, she is not hurt. Keep your eyes on the camera, honey’.

Rowena realized Robert was talking to her son through an earpiece, and she smiled.

They had been quite technological, lately, with Charlie’s help.

So, it meant they were there for her – Robert here, killing monsters, while Fergus and her favorite young redhead stayed in a van, as close as possible to her location, spying on them and guiding the hunter through the mission. 

‘Keep watching the door, madam’, Bobby whispered, working frantically, ‘Fergus says the monster is coming. I left some infrared cameras on the way’.

She lowered her head, glaring at the entrance, a new kind of gratitude taking her.

The witch had just realized Robert Singer was untying her not just because he was a gentleman; it was not even just because he wanted to take them off there as quick as possible.

He wanted her free to take the monster down herself.

Rowena loved the way her son-in-law thought.

And then everything happened.

The ropes fell and the djinn appeared, gun blazing.

Bobby crouched behind the chair.

Rowena lifted her arms and said some Latin words mixed with things Bobby had no idea from which language derived, and something exploded.

The hunter raised his head carefully to look.

The djinn was pinned to the wall, the hand that had held the gun turned into a bloody mess.

Bobby got up and approached the witch, who was standing in the middle of the room, staring hatefully at the squirming monster, ‘You think he had any idea whom he was messing with?’

She snorted, ‘Yes. He seemed interested in doing some ‘tests’’.

‘Uhm’, he looked at the creature, who had stopped struggling and now just trembled, ‘Nah. Don’t think he really did’, he took a look around the dungeon, made a disgusted face and stared at the djinn again, ‘You don’t poke the McLeods, fugly’.

Even in such a dire situation, Rowena felt her lips curving into a smile.

Fergus was right – that man was precious. 

‘Do the honors, madam’.

‘With pleasure’.

The creature’s neck snapped and it fell to the floor.

Bobby rested a hand on Rowena’s shoulder, ‘You ok?’

‘Yes’, she breathed deeply to control some residual trembling, ‘Now I am’, she turned to the man, composure recovered, ‘How did you find me?’

‘Fergus hid a thing in your phone to keep tabs on you’.

The witch tilted her head, frowning, ‘My son still doesn’t trust me?’

‘He worries’, Bobby corrected her, ‘He wanted to be able to locate you and make sure you’re all right, even if you don’t call for days – well, even more when you don’t call for days. We know you’re working with the boys and they may not keep you as safe as we’d like’, he shrugged, slightly embarrassed of revealing how much they cared, but went on, ‘I’m not criticizing. He didn’t have a way, centuries ago, but does now’, he made a gesture to the body on the floor, ‘It paid off’.

‘Yes, it did’, she agreed, and leaned her head gracefully, ‘Thank you’.

‘You’re welcome. We’re family’.

‘And family doesn’t end with blood’, Rowena smiled, patted his arm and turned to the door, ‘I know’.

 

xxx

 

Bobby got out of the bathroom wearing a white t-shirt and boxers, toweling his hair.

‘I took the liberty to call room service’, Fergus informed from the bed, where he was sprawled on his back, waiting patiently for his partner to come out of the shower.

The hunter was enchantingly domestic, wearing a white t-shirt and white boxers, ready for bed after another mission accomplished as if he had just come from a day in the office.

Bobby hummed in agreement and sat on the edge, close to the other’s feet, ‘Updates on the redheads?’

‘Charlie’s gadget showed them parked in a restaurant and I sent a message’, Fergus moved to sit beside Bobby with his cellphone in hand, ‘Behold the response I got’.

The hunter leaned a bit back (he didn’t have his glasses on) and smiled when the selfie of two obviously happy women raising champagne glasses came to focus, ‘Those idjits’, he shook his head fondly and looked around for a place to put his wet towel.

‘Allow me’, Fergus reached for the towel and got up from the bed. Bobby thought he was going to hang it in the racks of the bathroom, but the man knelt on the floor and started using it to dry the hunter’s shins.

Bobby sighed at the sensation. He enjoyed being pampered, too, ‘Your mother didn’t have to pay for this place, but it’s nice’.

‘She has money enough to repay her son-in-law for his heroic actions’, Fergus spoke softly, his focus on what he was doing, ‘If she didn’t, I would. You saved the day’.

‘Still think you’re both overreacting’, Bobby stated, then smirked, ‘Must be a family thing’.

‘Oh, well, not everyone’s family traits include a taste for ratty motels’.

‘Overreacting’. 

‘Must I remind you that you’re the one who proclaimed himself a McLeod some hours ago?’, Fergus threw Bobby a teasing smile, ‘I heard everything’.

Bobby relaxed on the bed, relaxing on his back and stretching his legs to give the man more access, ‘The McLeods has a nicer ring to it than Charlie’s Angels’.

Fergus chuckled, sitting on the floor to put a foot on his lap and towel it, ‘I prefer McSinger’, he winked at Bobby, ‘I ship us’.

‘Thank God you’re not in charge of naming things’.

‘Ingrate’, he was careful to dry between the toes, ‘I’ll make sure to have a plaque in front of our house that says it’.

Bobby chuckled, the gentle touches relaxing him more than the hot water of the shower already had, ‘A plaque saying I’m an ingrate? I’ll train my aiming on it’.

‘My second option is ‘Abandon all hope of celebrating life ye who enter here’’.

‘I’m not against celebrating anything’, the hunter grunted in a mix of pleasure and gruffness when Fergus held the other foot, ‘Have you called the bunker?’ 

‘Yes’, Fergus worked diligently on the feet, ‘Talked to Sam’.

‘How did it go?’

‘Entertaining, as always’.

‘I bet it was’.

Fergus finished his job, threw the towel in a corner of the bedroom and rested his head on Bobby’s knee, taking his time to savor the contact.

Bobby’s voice was soft, ‘They’re all right?’

‘Once the damsel in distress was saved – I know, haha – they were able to stop rotting in the warm juices of their guilt’.

Bobby closed his eyes, ‘Been there, done that’.

Fergus smiled, ‘Slapped them on the face to stop the guilt trip or rotted in your own?’

‘Been there, done those’.

Fergus chuckled and kissed Bobby’s thigh, ‘You’re precious’, a hand sneaked to reach more under the boxers, ‘Have I thanked you for what you’ve done today?’

‘You did, your mother did, Charlie did’, Bobby opened his legs a bit more, ‘Not sure I’m up to it, honey’.

‘I’m getting some mixed signals’, Fergus raised a brow, his hand finding a part of his lover already interested in his touch.

‘I’m tired and hungry. I saw Rowena hugging you and you managing to hug her back for more than three seconds. And then Charlie hugged me as if I had saved someone she-Oh’.

‘Yes, the Nerd and the Witch care about each other’, Fergus took his hand from Bobby’s boxers to rest on it and palm his middle, ‘I get it your vital energy must feel drained but such demonstrations of affection’.

‘Isn’t yours?’

‘I appreciate your worry’, Fergus knelt on the floor, between the open legs, and nuzzled the spot where his hand had been, fingers feeling the thighs under the boxers, ‘But I ask again’, the lips spoke close enough for the breath to reach skin, ‘Have I thanked you properly, Robert?’

‘Yes, you have, and far from me telling you to not doing it this way, but isn’t the food arriving any moment?’, the hunter’s face opened in a grin, ‘You’re cranky when someone interrupts us. Won’t your inner demon come to life on the poor bell boy?’

Fergus squinted at Bobby.

He loved when the hunter teased him, bringing up his past playfully.

Well, he could tease, too.

So, he gave a parting kiss on the clothed erection, patted a knee and got up, ‘Take your nap. I can wait’.

‘No way’.

‘Why not? Weren’t you worried about the poor mortal who’ll bring our food? I’m a nice person, now. I understand your point and will act accordingly’.

‘Cut the crap’.

‘Why, Robert. I don’t see what you mean’.

‘I was born at night, but not last night’, Bobby squinted at Fergus, ‘I’ve got the hints’.

Fergus hesitated for a moment, pondering on going right to the point or not.

He decided not to, ‘I have no idea what you’re talking about’.

Bobby rolled his eyes, ‘You keep stalling and, with our luck, the bellboy is going to ring at the most dramatic moment of our chat’.

Fergus sat on the bed, close to Bobby’s middle, and palmed a thigh, ‘You know I’m not for saying things in halves…’ 

‘One of the many reasons I love you’.

Fergus scoffed and his eyes wandered by the room.

He still found it difficult to deal with spontaneous declarations of love.

 

Bobby reached out for his hand, silent and understanding.

‘If we’re going to start it’, Fergus warned, ‘No amount of good food is going to calm me down’. 

‘I’ll hold your hand through it, sweetheart’.

Fergus chuckled, pleasantly disconcerted by Bobby’s acting out of character purposely, ‘All right, beardy. But let’s start slow’, he breathed deeply, ‘I want you to know I’m totally for investing in comfortable places for us, once: a) we deserve it; b) it takes us far from any dangerous Winchesters and c) it gives some well-earned privacy’.

‘Places? Plural?’

Fergus shrugged.

‘I see’, Bobby let go of Fergus’ hand, yawned, scratched his beard, looked at Fergus again, ‘D’ya think the food is taking long? Could use that nap’.

‘You’ll really making me say it?’

‘I just killed a djinn and saved my mother-in-law. I’m tired and hungry’, Bobby rubbed his eyes, ‘If you want to play guessing, you’ll have to work harder than that’.

Fergus raised his hands in surrender, ‘Take your nap. I’ll wake you up when the food arrives’.

Bobby sat on the bed to grab Fergus’ arm, ‘And talk over the meal? No way’.

Fergus rolled his eyes, ‘You’re impossible!’

‘Just hit me, honey’, the hunter stretched his arms and back, took off the white t-shirt, threw it away and sat comfortably, hands on his lap, ‘Don’t keep it inside’.

Fergus made an annoyed face.

‘What?’

‘You’re seducing information out of me’.

‘Am I?’, Bobby smirked, leaning slightly towards his partner, blue eyes a bit darker with desire, ‘Glad to know I’m making things easier on you’.

‘All right’, Fergus leaned back to keep his mind focused and breathed deeply, ‘I think what we went through today was the last straw’.

Bobby raised his brows, ‘You do?’

‘Definitively’, Fergus felt an urge to be bluntly sincere, as often happened when he couldn’t decide if Bobby was being sarcastic or just glad they agreed, ‘Seeing you and my mother with your lives at risk for some stupid plot involving monsters was eye-opening’, he shook his head, ‘I don’t know what was worse: when I didn’t know what was happening to her, when you entered that warehouse, when all I could hear were noises from the dungeon, when you exited that decaying place…’

‘Hey. How was it bad that we were safe?’

‘It was the moment when I realized a tragedy could have happened’, he gulped down, ‘She is powerful, you’re amazing, I’m the king of strategies and I had an IT genius by my side, and still something could have gone wrong’.

‘That’s life’, Bobby was very serious, now, ‘Something can go wrong anytime, monsters present or not’.

‘But you said we should leave the bunker and have our own life and I’ve been stalling’, Fergus grabbed Bobby’s hand, ‘I was not sure I wanted another change after all we’ve gone through, but this can’t go on’.

‘You mean almost losing people?’

‘Yes’, he approached Bobby enough to caress a bearded cheek, ‘It could have been Rowena, and it could have been you, and it can be any of us at any time. The prospect of a tragedy is always looming over us…’, Fergus looked deep into Bobby’s eyes, then added, ‘…and I suddenly understood what you meant on being old and scared’.

Bobby smiled soothingly, ‘It’s a bad thing that you had to go through it, but it’s good that now you can see things the way I do’.

‘You’re too much of a gentleman – should have thrown me over your shoulder a long time ago, instead of waiting for this idjit to make up his mind’.

‘I’m not a caveman. Would never force you to move in with me’.

‘Like a said, a gentleman’.

Bobby leaned in for a kiss, ‘So, you think it’s time’.

Fergus hummed an affirmative, then opened his mouth in an invitation that the hunter accepted joyfully.

The former demon straddled his partner and made him lie down again, so the kiss could go further and have the deepness he needed, now that he had taken his decision.

Fergus separated their lips to gaze into Bobby’s eyes, ‘Did you know that Charlie developed an app to help us find a house in Lebanon and its vicinity?’

‘Really?’

‘Yes. I mentioned or idea of moving to her and she wanted to show her support of what she called our ‘vanilla way of life’ in some practical way’.

‘That girl is the best’.

‘Yes, she is’.

They exchanged a new round of kisses.

‘And I may have mentioned it to Mary, too…’

‘I guessed you would. They were the ones who could understand our need to stay away’.

‘And neither was a founding member of Team Free Will’.

They smiled at one another in understanding, and Bobby asked, ‘And how is the hunt going?’

‘She selected two places and sent me photos and addresses’, Fergus bit his lower lip in excitement, ‘We could go visit the places tomorrow, on our way back. Unless you want us to go straight to the bunker’.

‘That’s the moment when I say there is nothing straight about us?’

Fergus laughed, ‘You know what I mean, moron’.

Bobby was grinning when he enlaced his hands on Fergus’ back, ‘Let’s see the places. Maybe we get to the bunker with some shocking news’.

‘My thoughts, exactly’, Fergus pecked Bobby’s lips, ‘You’re perfect, darling’, he started kissing Bobby’s neck, ‘So manly, killing monsters by yourself’, he nipped, extracting a groan, ‘You get me all warm when you slay your way through any one who challenges you’, he rubbed their middles, ‘I know it’s wrong, and still it feels like when you got your soul back from the deal…’

‘Did you touch yourself when I outsmarted you, Crowley?’ 

Fergus shivered in pleasure. His former name in Bobby’s voice did things to him, ‘Call it angry masturbation, darling’.

The hunter chuckled.

The rumbling sound made Fergus get lower to kiss the chest under him, ‘And then you were so proudly stating the djinn shouldn’t have messed with the McLeods…’

‘You liked that, didn’t you?’

‘Hearing you speak of yourself as part of my family always touches me right where my bathsuit goes’.

Now Bobby laughed, ‘I’ll be damned, but I love these demonic things you still say’, his hands moved to the other’s waist, ‘I love everything about you’. 

Fergus went up again for them to be eye to eye, ‘Even at the risk of repeating myself, I love you, too, Robert’.

They kissed again.

As if sealing a deal, but a lot better.

Suddenly, Bobby flipped them over, openly enjoying Fergus’ surprised yelp, ‘Yeah. Let’s get noisy’.

‘Is that a promise, now that we’re having our own place?’

‘Uhum’, Bobby stretched the collar of Fergus’ shirt in a way that ruined it, what infuriated the former demon but aroused him to no end, too, ‘Even if we already know who’s the loud one’.

He sucked the skin of his lover’s neck firmly, aiming for a hickey.

The expected effect happened: Fergus tensed, hardening at the jolt of pleasure, hands grabbing as much of Bobby as he could, legs circling his partner’s waist to keep him as close as possible.

That delicious torture went on, with Bobby pressing him against the mattress while diligently working to reinforce the hickey.

Fergus felt like he was being marked.

He rolled his eyes in pleasure.

His whole body tingled in a way not even the most hardcore orgies had managed to-

The bell rang.

‘You must be kidding me!’, Fergus groaned.

Bobby raised a brow, ‘Behave, demon’, he pecked the man’s lips, ‘I’ll open the door. Promise not to smite anyone’.

Fergus grinned, ‘I promise’.

‘Good boy’, Bobby leaned to speak in his ear, ‘You’ll not regret behaving, honey’.

‘It’s been more than worth until-Uhmmm’, Fergus was cut off by a new assault to the already tender skin of his neck, ‘Get the door, love, please. There’s whipped cream in the dessert’.

‘You said ‘whipped’? You naughty man’, Bobby winked at Fergus and got up from the bed a lot quicker than his usual old-man act suggested.

The former demon watched while his hunter picked a robe and tied it carefully, favoring discretion, before smiling at him and leaving the bedroom.

Fergus take a look at his own hardness poking from his trousers and let his head fall to the bed again.

They were going to live together, by themselves.

They were going to have a nice house with a garden and a dog.

They were going to take trips.

They were going to fuck each other in every imaginative way their desire conjured, having Bobby’s open mind and Fergus’ experience by their sides. 

They were going to enjoy the time they still had in this world.

Fergus closed his eyes and sighed.

They had helped to save this piece of rock floating in space a lot of times.

They deserved it.

The door opened and Bobby entered, carrying a tray, a smile on his face, ‘Good choices, honey’.

Fergus grinned foolishly, ‘Indeed’.


End file.
